Approaching the Batman
by Friedrickson2
Summary: After the Battle of New York, Black Widow and Captain America are sent to Gotham to negotiate with the city's local masked vigilante. Supervillains, the Batman's personality, sarcasm and possible UST-what could possibly go wrong?
1. Rogers's Apartment

_Variety, April 30, 2012: Steven Spielberg To Direct Captain America Film_

 _Christine Everhart-After DreamWorks, with Disney's backing, won a bidding war for a screenplay revolving around famed World War II hero Captain America in mid-March, it has been officially confirmed that Steven Spielberg has agreed to direct and co-produce the film._

 _Spielberg will be joined as producer by Kristie Macosko Krieger (Amblin Entertainment), Frank Marshall and Kathleen Kennedy (the Kennedy/Marshall Company), Kevin Feige (Marvel Studios) and Jeff Skoll (Participant Media)._

 _The screenplay for the film was written by Christopher Marcus and Stephen McFeely, the screenwriters of the 'Narnia' films, and appeared on the 2011 'Black List' of best unproduced screenplays._

 _When it was revealed earlier this years that Captain America-real name Steve Rogers, born July 4 1918-had been found alive in the Arctic, a fierce bidding war erupted in Hollywood, as various studios fought for the rights to the script, with the studios' preferred directors for the film revealed two weeks before DreamWorks's bid won:_

 _20_ _th_ _Century Fox-Ridley Scott_

 _Paramount-Edward Zwick_

 _Universal-Robert Zemeckis_

 _Warner Bros.-Peter Jackson_

 _Sony-Ron Howard_

 _Lionsgate-Joe Johnston_

 _The Weinstein Co.-Ben Affleck_

 _Disney will distribute the film through their Touchstone Pictures banner, as part of the five-year agreement between the two studios._

 _With Spielberg's quick decision to take on this project, the fate of his upcoming science-fiction epic 'Robopocalypse', is unknown, though it is possible Spielberg may abandon directing duties on that film altogether in favour of this latest historical venture, or instead shoot both films one after another, as he has often done in the past._

 _Steven Spielberg's latest film, 'Lincoln', will be released into theatres this November._

* * *

 _July 1 2012_

As Natasha Romanoff walked towards the entrance to the apartment building, she felt a breath of relief as nobody in the streets of New York recognised her, in spite of her efforts having all over the news a few weeks ago.

Though the repelling of the Chitauri invasion was not her doing alone-she had a lot of help, to the point where she could argue her contribution was minimal-Rogers and Barton alternated between fighting Loki's army and helping civilians seek shelter (many went underground into the subways, where there was little danger), Thor and Banner's…other half did the heavy hitting, while Stark was the one who dealt the killing blow (no thanks to the World Security Council-Fury had really torn them a new one afterwards).

Noticing the lobby was for the most part empty (there was a woman reading a newspaper), she walked up to the reception and asked the secretary "Do you know where Mister Rogers's apartment is?"

The secretary looked up and replied with some curtness "No. 704."

Natasha gave a fake smile, told the secretary "Thank you," and went on her way.

704 was located on what Americans still called 'the seventh floor' despite really being on the sixth floor (Natasha wasn't sure why she eschewed that system in favour of the British one when the USSR had also counted their floors/storeys including the ground).

Bracing herself, she knocked on the wooden door four times loudly.

* * *

Almost as soon as she had lowered her fist, the door opened and Steve Rogers appeared. Going by the look on his face and the flour on his apron and hands, he had not been expecting anybody to visit him, let alone her.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

"Can I come in?" she asked. "To talk."

"Yeah, yeah, you can come in," he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

'Once a gentleman, always a gentleman,' she thought to herself.

Steve's apartment was nice, small, and homey. The oven was turned on, with something inside, and the counter looked messy with the flour and drips of egg yolk, so Natasha's suspicions earlier were confirmed.

"What's cooking?" she asked.

"Uh, Victoria sandwich," he replied, looking unsure as to take off his apron or not. "I just put it in when you knocked."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Is it okay if I go clean myself up a little?"

"Knock yourself out," she said back.

He smiled uneasily, before taking off his apron and hanging it up before he cleaned up the mess and washed his hands of the flour and yolk.

* * *

"So, how's SHIELD going?" he asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Okay," she replied, looking around the apartment and noticing a thick pile of pages tied together on the cleaner side of the counter, with pens resting on top. "The Helicarrier's undergoing repairs, but we're still unsure if it's going back up."

Steve turned and saw her notice it.

She picked it up and read the words on the front. "So did they send this to you or did you spend the past month writing it yourself?"

"No, no, no," he shook his head, wiping his hands with a tea towel. "They sent it to me two days ago in the mail, with a letter asking me my opinion on it and to let them know if I had any issues with it."

"And I'm guessing by the pens, you've been making notes on what did and didn't happen?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It's more truthful than most real-life movies I know about-"

"They're called 'documentaries'," Natasha quipped.

Steve couldn't help but laugh. "I think you know what I mean. It's about 70% real, which I think is good; because there were enough of these kinds of movie made in the '30s and '40s that were just…full of baloney. But there was still some stuff I felt could be made closer to reality-for Buck's sake, at least."

Natasha, through her readings and briefings, was well aware of Rogers's close friendship with the late Sergeant Barnes.

"So what're you aiming for-for his sake?" she asked. Partially out of curiosity and partially out of hope this discussion would finish soon so she could start the one she had been sent to have with him.

"Truth-wise? About 80-85%."

"That's a good jump," she said.

He nodded in agreement. "It is."

* * *

Sensing Natasha was anxious to change the conversation, Steve then asked, "What is it you want to really talk about?"

"Fury wants you to do something for him," she replied.

"Again?" he asked.

"Well, compared to what happened in May, it's going to be a lot more low-key," she continued, before asking "You ever been to Gotham?"

Steve shook his head. "I've heard of it, and the people in it. It was a rough place even when I was your age."

"Technically, you're still my age," Natasha said back with a cynical smirk.

"Ha, ha," said retorted Steve lightly. "Anyway, why does he want me to go to Gotham?"

"Reconnaissance," she replied. "He asked me about it too. I said yes, and he suggested you work alongside me."

"As…partners?" he asked with some trepidation.

"Yes, as partners."

"Like…you and Clint Barton, partners."

"Yeah. Partners like me and Clint."

"You still haven't told me why exactly."

"There's been a vigilante operating in Gotham for the past couple of years-since around 2005."

"So, 7 years," said Steve.

* * *

Natasha sent him a glare, and continued. "Fury ignored him at first, because he was mostly sticking to the Gotham area, but after everything that's happened since Stark outed himself as Iron Man, he's decided to contact him just to be safe. Hopefully, with you there, it'll work this time."

"So he's tried to go after this guy before?"

"Yeah. Twice. The first time, we sent in Clint. He came back just a little ruffled. The second time, we sent in three guys and they wound up having a very intense conversation with him while hanging from a building, in which he implied that if they kept following him, they'd be needing wheelchairs."

Steve winced visibly. "Did he mean it?"

Natasha shrugged. "I've no idea. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Anyway, do you want to take this on, or would you rather we just leave you alone to your cakes?"

Steve sighed, looked at his fellow Avenger and said "I'll do it. But I wouldn't mind a word with Fury first."

"He figured you'd say something like that, and he'll meet you tomorrow, in Central Park. Dress inconspicuously."

"I'll try to," said Steve, nodding and smiling politely. "Though, uh, his coat's not the most inconspicuous."

"He'll be dressed a little more subtly, don't worry," assured Natasha, glancing at the door. "I guess that wraps up just about everything."

"You're sure you don't to, uh, stay for a little while?"

"I'm sure," she replied, "I have other things to do. Though it was a kind offer."

"See you around, then."

"Bye."

* * *

When she walked out of the building, Natasha hailed for a taxi, and after two tries, was finally able to get one to bring her back to JFK Airport.

Sitting alone in the back, with the driver smart enough to see she wasn't interesting in talking to him, she found herself contemplating the mission ahead.

She had never gone to Gotham City before. Neither, to her knowledge, had Stark, though she suspected it was because he had a greatly-exaggerated and highly one-sided 'feud' with local billionaire Bruce Wayne. And considering both that and his ego, it was certainly for the best to keep him out of this.

The Batman. They were going into one of the worst cities in America-its crime rates regularly appearing in the country's top 5 since the 1960s, horrific wealth inequality and massive corruption in government, judiciary and police that was only recently being truly investigated-to at the very least look for the vigilante regarded as having brought all of this to the forefront of debate and knowledge, while also becoming a figure of controversy himself.

Then there were the new costumed criminals who has sprung up in Gotham after the old Mafia Families fell, with the Joker being the most notorious of them. Whether they had been influenced by the Batman or not was still a matter of argument, though she knew that several of his enemies (namely Deadshot, the KGBeast and 'Killer Croc' Jones) had been around for a while before the Batman began his crusade.

'I wonder how he'll react to seeing us encroach on his territory again,' she thought. 'The fact that I'm a woman probably doesn't matter to him, seeing as he's more than willing to kick Poison Ivy's ass. Then again, while I am a redhead and have been told I'm hot by many different people, I'm not a psychotic environmental extremist with the ability to control plants, which means I would probably get along better with him than she does.

'Captain Rogers, though-how would they interact? To say the Batman's been rough on criminals and corrupt cops (who aren't any better than the former) is like saying hurricanes leave the East Coast damp. Would Rogers find his activities, his methods, distasteful? Once he's better-educated on the matter, would he see the Batman as a criminal? Or maybe he'd sympathise with him-it's possible he performed actions far more brutal and violence in the war than what the Batman's doing now, and thus see his actions in a pragmatic light. If he can let go of that damn idealism, at least.

'Hopefully though, if we just try our best not to interfere in what he does, maybe he'll hear us out, regardless of whether or not we actually get him to agree to join up.'

* * *

 **AN: This is my third attempt at a Batman/Avengers crossover. My first two were originally published here, but I deleted them a while ago.**

 **Regardless of future MCU developments, the X-Men will not be involved.**

 **Batman won't be the only DC character to show up here, don't you worry.**


	2. Central Park

_The New York Times, June 5 2012: Gotham Mob Boss Sentenced To Death_

 _By Jack Ryder-Salvatore Vincent Maroni, once one of the chief Mafia Bosses of Gotham City, has been sentenced to death two weeks after a federal jury found him guilty on all charges on the 19_ _th_ _of May._

 _Mr. Maroni, 63, was convicted of 17 counts of racketeering, 9 counts of kidnapping, 8 of counterfeiting, 3 of mail fraud, 4 of electoral fraud and 1 charge of conspiracy to murder a member of Congress. In March, he was acquitted of 4 counts of perjury and 8 of drug trafficking charges amidst allegations of jury tampering, though he was also convicted of 1 count of assault, resulting in a 9-year prison sentence._

 _Since 1995, when he is believed to have succeeded his late father, Luigi "Big Lou" Maroni, as head of the Maroni Crime Family, the younger Maroni has been indicted in over 37 felonies and other crimes and has been implicated in 17 others, ranging from cocaine trafficking and extortion to conspiracy and murder. His two sons, Pino (36) and Umberto Maroni (38), have also been implicated in organised crime, with Pino currently serving a 12-year prison sentence in Blackgate Penitentiary after being convicted in July 2011 of voter intimidation and assault._

 _Mr. Maroni is perhaps most notable, however, for attacking Harvey Dent, then District Attorney in Gotham, in August 2009 during his third trial for obstruction of justice, in which he scarred the District Attorney with acid he had smuggled in disguised as stomach medicine. This incident is believed to have been a strong factor in Dent's subsequent fall from grace and mental breakdown, resulting in a gruesome murder spree in which 22 mobsters, all associated with the Maroni Crime Family, were shot to death before he was taken down by the Batman and delivered to GCPD custody._

 _Speaking at the sentencing hearing, Judge Clay condemned Maroni's many crimes, referring to them as "a disgrace to both the city of Gotham, and the great state of New Jersey," before passing sentence. Mr. Maroni was then escorted out of the court by armed guards and taken to the Federal Correction Institute at Fort Dix._

 _When this reporter arrived at Arkham Asylum to speak with Mr. Dent (currently incarcerated there) about this news, he was promptly turned away by staff as the information 'would have provoked the patient and possibly influence him to try and escape.'_

* * *

 _July 2 2012_

Steve walked through Central Park wearing sunglasses, a hat and a jacket with upturned collar. He wasn't certain if this improvised disguise would actually work, but beggars could not be choosers.

It was now 11am, and so far he had been walking around the whole park for an hour with no sign of Director Fury.

Someone whistled loudly from behind him. He turned around to see who it was and wound up facing Nick Fury, wearing a brown leather jacket, black turtleneck, charcoal grey jeans and black combat boots.

"Where's the, uh, overcoat?" asked Steve.

"Too conspicuous for this, and it's July," replied Fury bluntly, looking at Steve with his eye. "Let's sit down."

"Yeah," agreed Steve.

Thankfully there was a bench not far from where the two men were standing, and they promptly sat down.

"You understand what Agent Romanoff asked you for me?" Fury asked.

"Yes sir," replied Steve.

"Good. Are you still willing to go to Gotham and do this?"

"After Natasha left, I went and did some research on the guy-on the Batman."

"What do you think of it?"

* * *

"He's tough. Real tough. It's a little unnerving, but considering the state of the police department when he started out, it pretty much sounds to me like there wasn't much choice."

"Did you read about him putting half the SWAT Team in the hospital?" asked Fury.

"This may seem odd coming from me, but they had it coming. They were reckless, dangerous, violent, and horrifically discriminatory. Loeb was just as bad, if not worse."

"Strong sentiments about police corruption, Cap," remarked Fury.

"Back in Brooklyn, there were a few cops we all knew were on the take and/or wilfully negligent," replied Steve.

"Back to the topic of the Batman-what else do you think about him?"

"He's not a threat to this country. He's certainly dangerous, but going by the people he's fought, it wouldn't be in his character to turn against us."

'You never know,' thought Fury cynically.

"I'd still rather be safe than sorry," he said openly.

"Fair enough," accepted Steve. "So what do you want me to do?"

* * *

"You and Agent Romanoff will be arriving in Gotham on the 9th of July, masquerading as reporters," explained Fury. "You're in Gotham investigating the Batman. That's going to be part of your cover-nobody's going to be questioning why reporters from out of town are going around the place asking questions about the Batman."

"That makes sense," agreed Steve. "What else is there?"

"You'll be staying at the Royal Hotel, in the same room," continued Fury.

Looking a little uncomfortable, Steve asked, "Why?"

"Because we don't have all the money in the world, it would look suspicious if it was two rooms at a $1200-per-night-hotel and the next meeting about the budget won't be until September. That's why," answered Fury. "But if it makes you feel any better, the room in question has two beds."

"Okay. So me and Natasha are going to be going around Gotham, asking about their local vigilante."

"Yes. Make sure the two of you keep in touch regarding where you've been and who you've spoken to."

"How does that line of action help us meet with him?"

"Go out looking for crimes in progress, wait, and after he deals with them, try to approach him."

"So just look and do nothing to help the people?" asked Steve uneasily.

"If it's serious, then you can intervene," replied Fury. "Unless you use yourself as bait and pray he arrives."

"I'd rather not," said Steve. "We do that, we might jeopardise our chances with him by wasting time he could be spending to halt more important matters."

"Good point, but meeting with him does that anyway, and he's not a god-he can't be everywhere to stop all crimes at once."

"He can try, though."

* * *

"Is there anything specific you want me and Natasha to do to get him out for a meeting?" asked Steve.

"I don't care how you do it, so long as it doesn't become too public or get either of you killed," replied Fury.

"And if worse comes to worst and we end up fighting with him?"

"Try not to kill him."

"Seeing as he's hasn't been known to kill, that part should be easy," remarked Steve.

Fury gave a nod. "Alright then."

"Is that all, sir?"

"Just one thing."

"What would that be, sir?" asked Steve curiously.

Fury turned to face Steve, the look in his eye a serious one as always.

"Be careful in Gotham. That is all." He paused for a few seconds. "You are free to go, Captain."

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, sir."

The two men got up, shook hands, exchanged goodbyes and walked their separate ways for the time being, both of them thinking about the days ahead.

* * *

'How do I know he's telling me everything about this?' wondered Steve. 'He didn't tell any of the Avengers-though Natasha probably had an idea-about the weapons that were being created from the Tesseract. What else is he hiding? If it's something important to this mission, it could affect the ability of Natasha and myself to succeed in establishing contact with the Batman.

'About him-how will he feel knowing that there are some more people encroaching on his turf looking for him to join a team of superheroes (I still need to get used to that word). Going by everything I know about him so far, he seems more of a 'lone wolf' type, like Jay was.'

Steve's thoughts then turned to a more paranoid path. 'Then there are all the criminals he's faced-the 'supervillains', or the 'Rogues Gallery of Gotham'. Nygma, Isley, Day, Crane and Dent are currently incarcerated at Arkham Asylum, no idea where 'Catman' and 'Black Mask' are, and 'Killer Croc' Jones was last seen outside Atlanta, Georgia. Suppose at least one of them breaks out-would it be wrong if I wanted to help then? Would Fury and Natasha agree? Would the Batman agree to let me help, is probably the more important issue. Maybe he would if the situation was dire enough-though God forbid that happens.

'Either way, the potential prospect of talking to him and distracting him if he's investigating the whereabouts of a dangerous fugitive, however small, is not something I would like to do. I just want to meet him, explain what we're doing, listen to what he says in return, and pray for the best.

'Knowing what happens when fate's tempted though, I'm just going to end up jinxing myself by saying that, so I'd like to retract those thoughts and hopes as soon as possible so that I do not have to find myself fighting him, probably getting my ass handed to me if he's only been holding back, and dealing with crazed supervillains. I just hope Natasha doesn't get hurt either during the second part of that-maybe the Batman has a chivalrous streak when it comes to redheads who aren't trying to kill him.'

Feeling his stomach rumble, Steve's train of thought came to a stop. He cursed the increased metabolism that the Super-Soldier Serum gave him, checked his wallet and pocket for money (he had a debit card now, but he still wasn't used to using it), found he had $3.00 in coins, and was around a hundred paces from a hot dog vendor.

* * *

 **AN: I own nothing.**

 **I wonder who'll show up next.**

 **Also, _Aquaman_ was awesome-I've seen it twice in the past 4 days.**


	3. The Iceberg Lounge

_New York Post, May 17 2012-KILLER CROC STRIKES AGAIN!_

 _By Cat Grant-The legendary monster-man known as 'Killer Croc' has claimed yet another poor victim when he attacked a local fisherman outside a sleep Georgia town._

 _The reptilian super-villain, a circus freak-turned-criminal, has been on the run since he escaped the notorious Arkham Asylum on March 20th, his fourth attempt at doing so from the institution and his second successful escape from custody, having been imprisoned at Arkham since September 2010. He was last seen in his old haunt-the Gotham City sewers-chasing after the Batman himself on April 1st._

 _What happened next is unknown, but we at The Post think that, as the Batman has been seen since then uninjured, that Killer Croc probably lost the fight between the two._

 _Defeated, it is believed Killer Croc then escaped from Gotham City and has been making his way down the East Coast since, possibly staying in the Georgian side of the Okefenokee swamp._

 _The fisherman in question, Harris McCoy, aged 44, a shopkeeper by trade who fished in his spare time, and was a resident of Fargo, Georgia, was last seen at 7 o'clock on May 15th going out to fish on the Okefenokee swamp. At 5 o'clock the following morning, the wrecked remains of his rowing-boat, with the savaged remains of McCoy's body inside, were found floating near the shore._

 _Despite being convicted in 2007 of 6 killings and again in 2010 of 8 more, he is believed in reality to have killed at least 70 people since he began his criminal career in 2003, making him probably one of THE most prolific serial killers in American history._

 _Killer Croc, while not normally armed, is considered highly dangerous. We strongly advise our readers that, should they see him, not to approach him for any reason at all: aside from being a sadistic murderer, he has claimed to be a cannibal on numerous occasions. As such, any and all sightings should be reported to the police or the F.B.I. as soon as possible._

* * *

 _July 5 2012_

Thomas Blake waited anxiously at the bar, lightly drumming his fingers on the polished marble surface, just waiting for someone to approach him and ask him to come with them.

Lowering his drink, he moved his hand down and felt the bag of diamonds that were in his pocket. Knowing they were safely on his person, especially after all the time and effort he had taken to get them here, made him smile in satisfaction.

He had gone hunting for diamonds like these in Somalia two weeks ago, seeing an opportunity for personal gain in the country's strife and instability, like all predators. Before he had taken them, they were locked up in the safe of a local warlord; before that, they had presumably originated in the mines of Sierra Leone, most likely as 'blood diamonds' in the 1990s.

Fortunately, the safe was easy to penetrate; unfortunately, the guard dogs had better hearing. Before he managed to successfully escape, he had, in addition to the diamonds, stolen an AK-47 and a second-hand motorcycle and killed 6 soldiers and a civilian. Luckily for him, he lost none of his lives.

Now here he was, sitting and drinking at the Iceberg Lounge, waiting to be brought up to meet his usual buyer, the top predator in Gotham's fencing racket whose lair he was now sitting inside, the Penguin.

Blake looked at the ornate clock on the wall-it was now 9.00, meaning that the Penguin was now eating. Whatever exactly the veteran gangster was having this time, Blake did not know: the Penguin was not a picky eater and had quite the sizeable appetite, which was undoubtedly the reason for his infamous girth (the man was not lazy, if the beating he gave his last accountant was anything to go by-he just ate a lot).

As he took another drink from the martini glass, he felt a hand tap his shoulder. Putting his drink down, he turned around to see Lark, the Penguin's right-hand woman, with her black Bob haircut and slim tuxedo.

"He's ready to see you now," she said. "And it's a special occasion, so he's decided that you'll be having dinner with him tonight."

'Dinner?' though Blake, surprised, before mentally shrugging. 'Well, I haven't eaten in a while, so I might as well indulge him. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do', as the old saying goes.'

With Lark leading and Blake following her, they both walked away from the bar and up the white stairs, stopping in front of the door to the Penguin's office.

"He's with me," explained Lark to the muscled bodyguard standing outside the door. When the bodyguard raised an eyebrow, she added, "The boss asked him in for dinner."

Hearing this, the bodyguard stepped aside and opened the door. Lark stepped in, and Blake followed her.

* * *

The Penguin's office was a grand room, with a mahogany desk and grandiose leather chair at the back, mauve walls, a big dining table/board table in the centre of the room covered by a patterned cloth, and various items of varying degrees of expensiveness and ornateness all around: for instance, a bust of an ornithologist whose name Blake had not bothered to remember, 19th-century china plates sitting on the table, the oil painting _Portrait of a Young Man_ by Raphael framed behind the desk, an oak-and-marble hatstand upon which hung a black top hat, and an umbrella stand made from an elephant's foot. There was no right wall-instead, there was a massive bulletproof window overlooking the interior of the Iceberg Lounge allowing the Penguin to watch over and keep an eye on his domain.

At the head of the dining room table, smiling as Blake and Lark entered the room, sat the Penguin himself. Wearing a three-piece white tie tuxedo with tailcoat and double-breasted waistcoat, the Penguin was a fat man of average height (Blake surmised he was roughly 5 feet 7 inches), with reddish-brown hair neatly combed and slicked back, a rather sharp and prominent nose that resembled a bird's beak (apparently this and his dress sense were what got the Penguin his moniker), and a weak chin that was partly absorbed into the neck flab. Over his left eye, he wore a monocle of clear glass (he had 20/20 vision and didn't need to wear one-he only wore it for the look).

"Thomas," he said warmly, extending his arms in a 'welcome' gesture. "It's good to see you again after all this time."

"And likewise for you too," replied Blake, sitting down to the Penguin's left. "I have the diamonds on me-"

"Hush now about the diamonds," interrupted the Penguin. "Dinner first, then we talk business."

"Okay then," accepted Blake, as Lark sat to the Penguin's right and the food arrived.

The heaps of food that was presented for starters (garlic bread, prawns, smoked salmon, oysters, olives, and caviar), main course (roasted ham, roasted leg of lamb with mint sauce, roasted pork with apple sauce, Yorkshire pudding, assorted vegetables, potatoes, and a full goose roasted and basted) and dessert (raspberry meringue roulade, chocolate Victoria sponge cake, Berliners, Black Forest gateau, apple crumble, and creme brulee) were more than enough for Blake, while he certainly ate his fill and felt like bursting, to be convinced that the Penguin was going to get gout or suffer a heart attack at some point in the future.

That the Penguin gorged himself on all this (albeit doing so in a polite and mannerly fashion) only served to further solidify Blake's opinion of this matter.

Once the food was cleared away (Blake presumed the Penguin's staff and pets were going to be fed the leftovers), the Penguin stretched his arms a little and elicited a moan of content, clearly happy with his meal.

"Now we talk business, Thomas," he said after a few minutes of mutual silence and rest as the champagne was brought in, followed by a thin, middle-aged man with balding brown hair and black sunglasses dressed in a double-breasted suit and gloves, who Blake recognised immediately.

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Blake," said the Broker cordially.

"Hello to you, Mr. Fine," said Blake in return as the Broker sat down next to Lark.

"Now, may we see what the Catman has dragged in tonight?" asked the Penguin curiously.

Smiling modestly, Blake reached into his pocket and took out the bag of diamonds, opening it up and emptying the precious stones onto the table.

"Beautiful," murmured the Penguin.

"Indeed they are," agreed Blake.

The Broker removed his sunglasses, revealing bright blue eyes, and took from his own pocket a loupe to examine the diamonds.

"Where did you obtain these diamonds?" asked the Broker.

"About 50 miles from Mogadishu," replied Blake.

"And when exactly did you do so?"

"I obtained them on the 21st. Why do you ask?"

"Personal curiosity," answered the Broker, holding a diamond in his gloved hand and examining it carefully.

Knowing that this process would take another half-hour, the Penguin turned to Blake and asked "So how was Africa?"

"Not much different from my last visit," replied Blake. "However, I did meet an old friend of mine there-a mercenary from South America. You would like her."

"Maybe I would," wondered the Penguin aloud. "So long as she impresses."

* * *

After half an hour had passed, the Broker put down the last diamond carefully.

"These diamonds are from Sierra Leone," he said simply. "Most likely, they were mined during the early 1990s to fund the forces of a faction in the civil war."

"So they are 'blood diamonds,'" said Blake.

"You suspected that they were?" inquired the Broker, taking out a notepad and pen.

Blake nodded. "Yes."

"Your suspicions were correct then. Now, they are of exceptionally high quality, which doubtlessly increases their worth-would you say that obtaining these diamonds was difficult, Mr. Blake?"

"Yes," replied Blake. "I nearly managed to get them out of the safe without detection, but the wind started blowing and the guard dogs picked up my scent. I had to steal a motorcycle and kill a number of the guards to escape with them."

"I see," the Broker said, not sounding like he cared that people died for the diamonds to get to their current location. "And how many did you kill?"

"6 guards, and a civilian," answered Blake. "So 7."

The Penguin sent Blake a reproachful look. Blake ignored it, but he knew the crime boss was right.

The Broker finished writing. "It seems then, going by the number of diamonds delivered-39, to be exact-coupled with their superb quality and the efforts you undertook to obtain them, along with the fact that each diamond is an average of 2.5 carats, are roughly the same shape, and are all E grade, I would suggest a price of $59,850 per diamond for Mr. Blake."

"How much is that?" asked Blake.

"$2,334,150."

Blake let out a whistle. "I'll accept it," he said. "So long as your boss makes a profit on them."

The Penguin let out a chuckle. "I will, don't worry. I always will."

* * *

"So, I must ask," asked Blake a few minutes later, as the diamonds were placed back into their bag and the Broker left the room, "why is it that you brought up here for dinner?"

"Because it's a special occasion," replied the Penguin. "10 years ago today, you and I had our first business meeting. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I do," answered Blake. "Lark was new too-her accent wasn't as strong."

Lark said nothing, but gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"I had decided to use my skills and training, that I had built up hunting game in Africa and serving in the Army, for my own personal profit," continued Blake. "I created my costume, cloth and Kevlar. I chose Mayor Hill's penthouse apartment as my first target and waited and watched until I learnt he was taking his family to Disneyland for the weekend. So, with the right moment, I pounced. I broke into the apartment, emptied the safe in his office, ransacked the wife's jewel box, and made my mark clear on the walls."

"So you did," remembered the Penguin, smiling at the memory. "The press were in hysterics. Never mind Hill himself when he found out-the money he spent on security afterwards was about a third of what you got from me in exchange for everything."

Blake laughed at the fact. "And yet that proved useless when Catwoman broke in four years later."

The Penguin laughed too. "Jesus, I forgot she broke in too. Dead of night, everyone asleep, security cameras on, she slips into the bedroom, opens all the drawers, and takes everything valuable, without waking them up."

"Yes, indeed, and we both made a pretty penny ourselves from that, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did, Thomas. $1 million for you, which I then made back with extra when I sold them off."

"Those were the days," smiled Blake. "Three great years of success and prosperity, until _he_ showed up."

* * *

At Blake's reference to the Batman, the Penguin sneered and balled his hand into a fist.

"God damn him," he growled. "He once broke into my office two years ago and confronted me over a mob hit that he thought I ordered."

"Which one?" asked Blake.

"Joe Russo," replied the Penguin. "As it happens, I didn't order the hit, but I did want that rat bastard dead, and that was enough for him to investigate me and my dealings. He didn't leave me be for another three weeks-then Poison Ivy strutted into town and began her charade, and that took the heat from him off of me."

"Quite a stroke of luck, then," remarked Blake.

"A stroke of luck indeed," agreed the Penguin contemptuously. "He's been especially lucky himself since he showed up. The number of times he's cheated death, dodged a bullet, so on and so forth...God damn him."

"He's been a thorn in my side forever too," added Blake. "After we began our business association, before the Batman arrived, I managed to pull off 25 heists, all successful, in the space of three years. Since 2005, I've attempted a mere 15, and only 7 of them have actually succeeded."

"And that is the story of why you expanded your hunting range internationally," finished the Penguin.

"Yes."

"While in addition, you have dabbled in mercenary work in South America and Asia."

"Also true. How do you know?"

"I have contacts, Thomas, and have worked with others in that line of work," answered the Penguin. "Who knows, maybe you'll meet a few soon enough."

"You're not about to have me killed, are you?" asked Blake.

* * *

The Penguin laughed. "Lord no, Thomas. What good would that do me? No, no, I've got something else in mind."

"And what would that be?" asked Blake.

"I'm using those contacts to spread the word around-whoever brings me and Black Mask the Batman alive to kill gets $90 million. In cold, hard cash."

Blake let out a wold-whistle. "How did you get the money?" he asked.

"I withdrew it from one of my offshore accounts," replied the Penguin. "I'm not going to tell you which one or where I have it located now, for that matter. No offence meant, of course."

"No offence taken-it's a good idea," said Blake. "I'd be quite happy to do Gotham City's underworld the service of bringing the Batman to his executioner. But I imagine, if you're spreading the word around about this new bounty-it's going to be a contest."

The Penguin grinned. "Oh, yes, Thomas. Professionals only, if you know what I mean. As much a pain in the side he is, the Batman should at least have the honour of being bested by an equal. Removing the mask is optional-I don't give a shit who he is under it, only that his heart stops beating."

"Wise sentiments," remarked Blake.

"Thank you," smiled the Penguin. "Will you be taking part, seeing as you've expressed something like enthusiasm for it?"

"Perhaps, so long as it's friendly competition."

"With $90 million on the line?" asked the Penguin sarcastically. "Not likely. So how about it?"

"At the very least, I'll drink to it," replied Blake, taking a glass of champagne. "To the Batman's death."

"To the Batman's death."

* * *

 **AN: I own nothing.**

 **Batman probably has the best villains in superhero comics. Hopefully, we'll see a few more of them.**


	4. JFK Intl-Archie Goodwin Intl

_The Gotham Globe, May 30, 2012: Spielberg's Captain America Biopic Sets Release Date and Begins Casting_

 _By Angela Chen-DreamWorks Pictures and Disney's Touchstone Pictures have set their biopic of WWII legend Captain America, currently set to be directed by Steven Spielberg, for an April 2014 release date, while Spielberg has already begun assembling his cast and crew for the film._

 _Regular collaborators Rick Carter (production designer), Janusz Kaminski (cinematographer) and Michael Kahn (film editor) are all currently expected to once again team up with the director on the project, currently alleged to begin filming as early as next January, though script rewrites may delay shooting until later in the year. Nothing has yet to be reported as to whether longtime Spielberg composer John Williams will sign on to the project, though it is considered likely he will do so._

 _Producer Frank Marshall revealed to 'The Daily Bugle' that he believed casting to take place mostly between June and September, and that Spielberg is looking to shoot the film in England: "Steven has a real fondness for shooting in England, and both he and I would love to go back there to do this movie."_

 _A casting call for British actresses has been announced for the female lead of S.S.R. Agent Peggy Carter, with potential actresses from Oscar-nominees Keira Knightley and Carey Mulligan to rising talents Juno Temple and Emma Watson all being speculated for the part. In addition, actors Hugo Weaving and Ralph Fiennes are being considered the likely candidates for the role of Johann Schmidt, the founder of rogue Nazi sect HYDRA and nicknamed the 'Red Skull'._

 _Finally, the filmmakers are looking to cast an American actor in the lead role of 'Captain America', Steve Rogers. The process is expected to involve tight competition from many of Hollywood's younger actors, given the prestige of the role and especially after the Captain was seen aiding civilians and fighting in the alien invasion of New York earlier this month. It is expected that Rogers's frail appearance before he was given Abraham Erskine's Super-Soldier Serum will be achieved by a combination of visual effects and body doubles._

 _Steven Spielberg's newest film, historical drama 'Lincoln', is set to be released this November._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

"This is our flight," Natasha told Steve as she led him to the gate for their flight to Gotham's Archie Goodwin International Airport, both of them holding their carry-on bags.

"Do I really need these?" asked Steve about the glasses he was wearing.

"Do you want people to come up to you, recognising your real identity, and jeopardise the mission?" asked Natasha back, her hair cut short and dyed chestnut brown.

"No," answered Steve.

"There you go."

The spy and the soldier passed through the gate and onto the jet bridge, Steve looking around it with bewildered amazement and Natasha remembering he was still adjusting to the 21st century.

Steve sat down next to the window, while Natasha was sitting in front of him. A balding middle-aged man in sunglasses sat down next to Steve and began reading a newspaper. The seat next to Natasha stayed empty, even as the final passengers boarded.

While Steve began flicking through the leaflets and magazines provided with a lazy hand, Natasha took out her copy of _A Confederacy of Dunces_ , a $1 bill serving as a bookmark for where she last stopped reading.

* * *

As the plane took off from JFK International Airport, Natasha, while still reading Toole's posthumous opus, began to formulate the course of action for herself and Steve once they got off the plane with as much detail as possible:

Firstly-they would go to the nearest vending machine with whatever change they had, and get a chocolate bar each.

Secondly-they would collect their baggage and dispose of the wrappers in the same trashcan.

Thirdly-she and Steve would hail for a taxi; if they didn't catch a taxi in the following 30 minutes, they would head for the nearest bus going into the city.

Fourthly-the taxi would take them straight to the Royal Hotel; the bus would take them to the bus station and they would either walk 4 blocks to the Royal or hail for a taxi.

Fifthly-upon arriving at the hotel, she would do the talking at the reception while Steve handled the bags; once they were checked in, he would then hand them to the bellboy and the three of them would take the elevator.

Sixthly-they would step inside their room, she and Steve would give a small tip for the bellboy after he brought everything in, and she would go into the bathroom for a 15-minute shower before emerging to change back into her clothes and going out to begin investigating the Batman, and thus finding a way to make contact with him.

* * *

Steve, now finished with reading what the plane had provided, began to silently go back over previous thoughts regarding Gotham and the Batman, and hoped that neither he nor Natasha would have to fight him and that he would hear them out.

At the same time, he hoped that the two of them wouldn't get much trouble from the local underworld or supervillains. This was in spite of the fact that he knew part of attracting the Batman was to deliberately put himself in the sights of said criminals.

He wondered how someone like the Riddler would react if they learnt they had kidnapped Captain America, if they would take the opportunity to kill him, gloat about it live to the world via Internet or TV, torture him to find the limits of his enhanced physiology, or worse, start fanboying (Steve only found the obsessive fanboys/fangirls annoying, to be fair, and those people who had recognised him and respected his privacy, he gave respect back).

'As long as it's someone like Edward Nygma, or even Doctor Isley' he thought. 'If the Joker ends up coming back, then the results probably won't be good for either of us, or the rest of the city. And if Crane escapes from Arkham, then there's just as much reason to be worried.'

Steve's mind then turned to the GCPD. He knew for a fact that he or Natasha (or maybe both of them) would have to try at some point and get information about the Batman and where to find him from the local cops.

Finding a police officer in Gotham probably wouldn't be difficult, and getting them to talk about him would certainly be made easier if they were supporters. The dirty cops, on the other hand, would either not talk about the vigilante or would swear angrily while doing so. Considering the number of them the Batman had sent to ER and/or prison, this was not surprising.

* * *

A short while later, the plane began to descend down to Gotham's Archie Goodwin International Airport.

Hearing the captain announce the plane's descent on the intercom, Natasha put the dollar back between the pages of her novel to mark her progress for a later time and put it back into her backpack.

Steve took his gaze away from the window and instead readied himself to get out of his seat (though he kept his seatbelt on), as the man next to him folded his newspaper and did the same.

"Is this your first time coming to Gotham?" the man asked Steve.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," replied Steve. He hadn't-for some reason his USO tour during the war hadn't gone to Gotham period (he had gone to Bludhaven back then, though).

"Same, though my brother-in-law lives there," continued the man. "One word of advice I have been told from my sister, though-if you see an unaccompanied minor who then walks up to you, make sure your wallet's out of their reach so they don't take anything."

This second-hand piece advice did little to make Steve worry less about Gotham, and his lack of response brought this conversation to an end.

A few minutes later, he could see the architecture of the city outside his window. Having seen photographs of the city skyline and of the buildings themselves, he found himself able to identify most of the individual buildings below-Wayne Tower, the GCPD Headquarters (with something on the roof covered by a tarpaulin), the Gotham Museum of Art, the Gotham National Bank, and Gemini Jewellers, among others. Until the plane finally landed, he stared out the window at the city he was entering and hoped he was welcome there.

* * *

"Now that we're here, what do we do now?" asked Steve, as Natasha raised her arm and began waving for a taxi.

"We get a taxi and head for the hotel," she replied, grinning when her effort quickly paid off and a dirty yellow cab began driving towards them.

Steve covered his mouth and burped, tasting the chocolate. 'Why did she have to choose the dark chocolate?' he wondered.

At this point Natasha had just finished talking to the driver and was opening the door for herself and Steve, who helped her load everything into the trunk.

"We're both paying for this, right?" asked Steve.

"Yes," replied Natasha. "It's probably going to be $20, by the way."

Steve, realising once more how much prices had risen since the 1940s and the war, sighed with a smile. He took out a $10 bill from his wallet and put it into his left pocket so he could give it to the driver when they arrived at the Royal.

Getting inside, Steve closed the door and the driver started, leaving Natasha content that so far, nothing had gone wrong.

And she fully expected everything to go wrong on this mission.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **You're free to give reviews-you're not obliged, but they would be welcome.**


	5. The Royal Hotel

_The Gotham Times, November 22, 2011: 'The Riddler' Captured Once Again_

 _By Vicki Vale-After escaping Arkham Asylum on September 1, criminal mastermind Edward Nygma, also known as 'The Riddler', was finally captured in an abandoned warehouse near Gotham Harbour last night after his latest conspiracy was foiled by the efforts of both the Batman and the Gotham City Police Department._

 _Nygma, 42, was previously arrested in August 2009 for organising a six-month spree of robberies of banks and jewellery stores which involved leaving cryptic clues and puzzles hinting at the next target for both the police and the Batman, leading to his now-infamous nickname courtesy of freelance journalist Jack Ryder._

 _This latest plot, which involved hijacking a train carrying an estimated $300 million worth in gold bars to the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox, was hampered when Nygma arranged a break-in at a gun store using his hired help to steal weapons for the heist, which was intercepted by the Batman, who then tracked down several of the escaping henchmen to the Riddler's hideout._

 _When Det. Harvey Bullock arrived on the scene and arrested Mr. Nygma himself, he discovered that Nygma had also abducted Wayne Enterprise CEO Lucius Fox (57) to serve as an 'insurance policy- of-sorts in the event of his hijacking going wrong, with the intent being to free Fox in exchange for his own freedom. However, the appearance of the Batman, who subdued Nygma and his men before freeing Fox, sabotaged that part of the plan._

 _Commissioner Gordon praised the "dedication and effort of the GCPD in their investigation and work to recapture Nygma and prevent him from carrying out his plans," though some may question how involved in Nygma's capture the GCPD really were involved, and whether or not he should instead give credit to the Batman._

 _Whether or not Nygma will attempt another escape remains to be seen, but what is certain is that, for the time being anyway, it seems Gothamites can sleep more easily knowing its defenders are out there keeping them safe._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

They arrived at the Hotel and payed the driver ($25-a quarter up from Natasha's expectation). Steve carried the heavier bags and Natasha took hold of the lighter ones as she walked up to the reception.

"Hi," she said in a sweet, happy-go-lucky voice, with a big friendly smile on her face, "me and my friend booked a room-"

"What number?" asked the receptionist rudely.

"1939, I think," replied Natasha, restraining herself from insulting the woman.

"What name is the room booked for?" the receptionist asked again, checking her computer.

"Johnson. Ingrid Johnson," replied Natasha.

"And your friend? The other guest?"

"Robert Capuano," replied Natasha.

The receptionist continued to check the records for a couple more seconds. Both Steve and Natasha waited patiently.

"Yes, you're here," confirmed the receptionist, not sounding like she was pleased. Getting out of her seat, she took out the key-cards and handed it to Natasha. "It's on the 10th floor."

"Thank you," replied Natasha. "You were quite the help, miraculously."

Followed by Steve, she then walked to the nearest elevator, placed her bags on the bellboy's trolley, and pressed the button for the 10th floor.

* * *

The moment they found the door to room 1939, Natasha opened the door using the key-card (whilst wondering whether or not Steve knew how to use it properly) and stepped in, holding the door open for Steve and the bellboy.

"Well Robert," she said to Steve, "this is it."

Steve was confused by her calling him 'Robert', but tried his best to hide it from the bellboy.

Seeing as the young man didn't notice this as he took Steve's tip after Natasha's, Steve presumed that he succeeded.

"Robert?" he asked Natasha the moment the bellboy closed the door.

"Aliases," she replied.

"Ah. Okay then."

"Good," said Natasha as she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. "You don't need to go, do you?" she asked Steve.

Steve shook his head.

"Okay then. I'll be in the shower. See you in around half an hour and we'll get started."

Steve nodded. "Gotcha. I'll just unpack my things, if that's alright."

"It's alright."

* * *

Half an hour later, true to her word, Natasha stepped out of the bathroom, her hair damper than when she entered.

"15 minutes actually showering, right?" asked Steve, who was sitting on his bed and looking over a copy of SHIELD's file on the Batman (duly provided to both him and Natasha by Agent Hill).

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"I could hear the shower through the walls," he replied.

Natasha gave a simple nod of acknowledgement. "Okay."

"Okay," said Steve back, before he asked, "Are we starting now?"

"Going over that file, you mean?"

"No, going out and finding him."

Natasha looked out the window. "Well, it's still light out, and most of the sightings happen between 7pm and 4am. Which gives us 9 hours to do that."

"The time now is 4.30 now," said Steve, glancing at his watch. "Should we just go around and familiarise ourselves with the layout of the city first?"

"Not a bad sounding idea, I admit, but we are supposed to be from out of town. It's only natural we don't know our way around."

"You seriously think two reporters investigating the Batman in Gotham wouldn't learn their way around the city, just in case he needed to rescue them?" pointed out Steve.

"Alright. That is a good point."

* * *

"How about," suggested Steve, "we go out this evening, learn our way around the city, and also use it to ask a few questions about the Batman?"

"That's not a bad idea," complimented Natasha. "I say we go for it. We meet back here in about 2 hours?"

"Sure," agreed Steve. "How about you get back here first? I'm...still not confident in using those cards."

"They're a pain in the ass for everyone, don't worry," said Natasha back. "But where to? Bars? Police stations? Arkham Asylum?"

"We should probably go around the rest of the city first before we go there," suggested Steve.

"Alright then, what about this idea?" asked Natasha. "You go to one of the local newspapers, ask around about the Batman, hopefully someone agrees to talk to you and you just make sure to record everything he says."

"With a recorder, right?" asked Steve.

"Yes," replied Natasha. "I know that Erskine's Serum improved your memory and attention to detail, but it's better to have and not need it in the event you miss something."

"What about you?" Where are you going?" Steve asked.

"The nearest seedy bar filled with criminals," replied Natasha. "I can always convince them of the catharsis they'll get from talking about it. And you know well I can handle myself."

"Honestly," said Steve, "if they try to do something to you, Natasha, I'd be more worried about them."

* * *

Walking out of the doors of the hotel, Steve and Natasha went in opposite directions-Steve to the offices of _The Gotham Globe_ newspaper, and Natasha to The Stacked Deck (apparently a popular watering hole for lower-level criminals).

Walking out of the hotel as quickly as he did, though, meant Steve couldn't stop himself in time to prevent stumbling and crashing into a man in a brown suit and sunglasses, both of them falling to the ground.

"Sorry," he apologised to the man, helping him get back up.

"No, no, I'm sorry," replied the man, in a soft, yet gravelly voice. "I didn't see you walk out."

Steve smiled and raised his hand. "It's fine, don't worry."

"You're sure?" asked the man.

"Yeah," nodded Steve.

"Okay then," accepted the man, giving Steve a thumbs-up as he walked away, taking out a match and putting it between his teeth.

Steve watched him walk some more yards and then turn around, match clenched in teeth, and walk back towards Steve.

"We haven't met before, have we?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," replied Steve, smiling awkwardly. "I've never been to Gotham before."

"In that case, if you need any help around here, here's my card," replied the man, pulling a cream yellow card from his pocket and handing it to Steve.

"Thanks," said Steve.

"Don't mention it," replied the man. "See you soon."

* * *

As the man walked away out of sight, Steve turned around and began walking to the Globe.

Reaching the bus stop, he brought the card closer to his eyes to get a better look at it while waiting for the bus.

"' _Patrick 'Matches' Malone-everyman and salesman_ ,'" he read quietly to himself. He looked at the phone number written underneath and memorised it, but decided to keep the card in his wallet anyway.

'Something of a souvenir, maybe?' he thought to himself. 'He seems like a decent guy-modest, friendly, accommodating. Maybe if I have trouble tracking someone down, I'll ask if he can help me.'

A few more people came to the bus stop. Steve looked at the schedule, then his watch, and saw that he had another 7 minutes left before it came.

'When I get to the _Globe_ offices, I'll ask for Alexander Knox. Most of their articles and coverage regarding the Batman has been written by him, so he's probably their expert on him too. According to Natasha, he's quite eager to talk to people about the Batman and even has a box of papers and files on the subject.'

He turned his head. The bus was coming-it was in the distance, but it was coming.

'Maybe Malone could help look for the Batman. Maybe he could arrange something. If he knows the Batman, maybe he could help set up a meeting for me and Natasha to talk to him.'

The bus came closer. Steve kept on thinking, this time about the questions he ought to ask Knox.

'What are the Batman's patterns, how does he fight, has he any special abilities, who he may be. I probably won't ask them exactly like that and as quickly, but they should provide a good pattern to follow.'

The bus finally stopped. Steve let the other passengers get out first, stepped aboard and, upon paying for his seat, sat down and waited patiently to get to the _Globe_.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **Review if you want to.**

 **Fair warning-I'll probably go the 'broad strokes' route regarding MCU canon in this fic.**


	6. The Stacked Deck Club

_The New York Times, March 17 2012: Galaxy Communications To Purchase 'Wall Street Journal' Publishers_

 _By Rachel Abrams-Galaxy Communications, Inc. has agreed to purchase Dow Jones & Company, the publishers of 'The Wall Street Journal' from its current owners, News Corporation, for $6.1 billion._

 _The impending sale comes after a turbulent year for News Corporation, after the company and its subsidiaries, particularly in the United Kingdom, found itself entrenched in numerous scandals and controversies, largely related to allegations and accusations of phone hacking and bribery, leading to 'The New York Post' being subject to an FBI investigation, the arrests of several journalists and the closure of their British tabloid 'News of the World'._

 _News Corporation CEO Rupert Murdoch said in a press conference announcing the sale that he lamented having to let the publishing firm go to a new company._

" _Dow Jones and Company only came under the News Corporation umbrella a few short years ago, and to see it, and the 'Journal', leave us for new pastures, while it is a sad day for us, must also be accepted…though I must bid Dow Jones 'good luck' under their new management and Mr. Edge."_

 _Conversely, Morgan Edge, the founder and CEO of Galaxy Communications, welcomed the addition of the prestigious firm to his already impressive collection of enterprises at his own press conference in Metropolis._

" _I've always been an avid reader of the 'Wall Street Journal', and while the idea of actually being able to buy it never crossed my mind during Galaxy's early years, the fact that I am now able to welcome it and its owners to the Galaxy Communications family is surely something I must celebrate. And I assure you that they will be accommodated as much as possible."_

 _Negotiations for the sale began in November, when Edge approached Murdoch about the possibility of purchasing one of his company's subsidiaries, which has been speculated by some more cynical minds as being Edge and Galaxy Communications attempting to take advantage of News Corporation's phone hacking scandals for its own gain._

 _It was initially reported that Murdoch wanted nothing below $7 billion for Dow Jones. However, Edge's notorious negotiation tactics won out, with some critics accusing the 49-year-old of strong-arming Murdoch and his team into agreeing to accept the reduced sale price. Representatives from Galaxy Communications has denied these claims._

 _The formal acquisition of Dow Jones and Company by Galaxy Communications is expected to be concluded by mid-May._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

The Stacked Deck Club was four storeys tall, with its name exposed in a big sign advertising the bar in red and green neon lights, though they were turned off for the time being. The walls were a fading off-white, with the paint starting to flake off.

Natasha looked at the entrance. No bouncers. She wondered briefly if it was because, being a bar full of criminals, there was little they could do in the event of a fight breaking out.

"Wish me luck," she murmured quietly to nobody in particular as she stepped towards the doors and allowed herself inside.

Inside, there were a lot of conversations going on. Men and women from all the lower corners of the Gotham City underworld were either having a drink on their own, talking to one another or playing some kind of game, be it pool, cards or darts.

Looking around, she kept an eye out for a quiet booth and table where she would be able to observe the majority of the barflies and keep an eye out for anyone who might send this part of the plan belly-up.

Finding one near the corner, she quickly walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of ginger beer.

The bartender obliged her; she paid in cash and took her drink to the booth she had noticed earlier, thankful that it had not been claimed.

Pouring the non-alcoholic drink into her glass, Natasha scanned the room for familiar faces-contract killers, petty thieves, and low-level mobsters-anyone with a criminal record that SHIELD wasn't interested in.

A man wearing a fine brown suit and sunglasses, with a matchstick between his teeth, walked into the bar and headed for the counter, ordering a drink from the bartender when he got there. Judging by the way he and the bartender acted to each other, Natasha concluded that the man with the match was a regular here and was on good terms with the bartender.

Natasha recognised him a little, but she wasn't entirely sure who he was, other than that she was going to ask Hill when she got back to the hotel.

* * *

'Matches' Malone wondered if the leather jacket-wearing brunette in the corner booth could see his eyes look at her through his sunglasses.

She wasn't exactly tall: he guessed that, at the most, she was 5 feet 5 inches tall, and probably between 110-135 pounds.

She was certainly attractive, that was for sure, very much so; but that wasn't always enough in Gotham (unless you either had an obsession with plants and a mind for poisons, or had claws in your gloves and knew how to handle a whip).

She was also sitting in the corner of the bar, where she had given herself the best line of sight possible. She wanted to see everyone who approached her.

Which meant that she probably knew what she was doing when she walked into The Stacked Deck. She still had the look of someone who had never come to Gotham before.

'Who is she?' he wondered curiously. He had never seen her before, had never seen any photographs of her before, and if she introduced herself to him, he doubted it would ring any bells.

'Maybe she isn't a criminal,' he thought. 'Maybe she's an undercover cop (GCPD? State Police?), maybe she's from the FBI or Marshals Service, maybe she's just new to Gotham, but hasn't yet realised The Stacked Deck usually caters to criminals.'

The bartender gave him his drink (iced tea with lemon juice), and as Malone took a sip of it, his musings continued.

'Or perhaps she's a reporter looking for a story. In which case, if my fellow patrons find out, she'd better hope they don't think it worth killing her over.'

He glanced over at the pool table, where three men, all ex-cops fresh out of prison, were playing together. He then looked over at 'Knowing some people in here, they'd kill her later given the chance.

'All that said,' his thoughts continued as he took a sip of his water, 'whatever she is, she has chosen a very good place to sit in this bar. You can see nearly everything that goes on from that corner. Makes it useful for picking out the dangerous people in the room-and having a back to the wall means nobody gets to surprise you.'

Focusing on the woman again, he noticed a man in his early 40s walk up to her booth and sit down, drink in his hand. He continued to watch as the man then sat down next to the woman, who appeared not to give a damn about him.

He hoped nothing happened to either of them. It would be nice to spend a day in this place without a fight breaking out for once.

* * *

"Mind if I join you?" asked a Southern voice to Natasha. Looking up, Natasha noticed a man in a beige suit with a drink in his hand standing up.

Natasha shrugged, only hoping that he didn't prevent her from asking about the Batman.

The man looked to be the same age as Tony Stark, but was less handsome. His black hair had a widow's peak that looked like it was receding, giving the impression that he had a large forehead.

"Sonny Burch," the man said with a smile, sticking out his hand. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, miss?"

Natasha shook her head. "Not now." She neglected to bring up SHIELD's file on his activities.

"Fine." Withdrawing his hand, he sat down next to Natasha and put his drink on the table.

Noticing she was looking at something, Burch turned his head, trying to see what she was looking at, to no avail.

"What are you looking for, exactly?" he asked with some confusion.

Natasha inhaled. Burch mainly operated out of California, where he owned a restaurant as a front. But being an illicit arms dealer with suspected connections in law enforcement, it didn't surprise her that he would be in Gotham City, even if only for a short while.

'It's possible, then,' she decided, 'that he's been paid a visit by the Batman. It's also possible he knows something.'

"Someone who'll answer my question," she replied simply.

Burch raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of question would that be?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you," replied Natasha. "We've only just met."

"Well, I imagine I can handle it," countered Burch.

"Alright then, if you say so," agreed Natasha, watching Burch take his drink.

"What can you tell me about the Batman?"

* * *

The moment she finished, Burch choked on his drink and began coughing, gaining the attention of several other patrons, and making Malone more suspicious.

"Wh-What?" he exclaimed in surprise. "You want to talk about _him_?"

Some of the nearby patrons quietened down to try and hear the conversation. Others figured out what they were going to talk about and promptly ignored them.

Malone knew that if these men got riled up enough by mentions of the Batman, things could turn ugly. Mentally, he prepped himself to intervene and act as a Good Samaritan just in case (he really did not want another fight in here).

"Yeah, I want to talk about him," Natasha replied to Burch. "That's kind-of why I asked you about him."

"Listen lady," Burch explained, "You do not-I repeat, do not-just waltz into this city and go asking people about the Batman. Okay?"

"Yes, but I didn't," countered Natasha. "I waltzed into this city, sat down in this bar, let you sit down with me, and then I asked you about the Batman."

"Don't be funny," warned Burch with a more menacing undertone. "people who ask the wrong questions in this town still go missing..."

"Is that before or after Loeb got thrown into the courthouse?"

"With or without him, there are plenty of people in this city-especially in this corner-who don't take kindly to being asked about the Batman."

"Why? It's just a question," pointed out Natasha.

"Well," explained Burch, "it can bring up...bad memories for some people."

Malone turned and noticed that Dan Brickwell, one of Black Mask's enforcers, was listening in on the conversation intently and angrily, judging by his expression, the look in his eyes and the drumming of his fingers.

"I'm just looking for simple stuff-I'm not naming anybody, or giving this to the police-though I know they'll probably ask. Just the physical appearance, where he likes to hang out, his favourite punching bags, that kind of thing."

* * *

It didn't take much longer for Burch to realise that further attempts at dissuading her would only prove futile, and sighed in defeat.

"Fine. What do you want me to tell you? And be warned-I'm no native Gothamite, so I don't know as much."

"I don't mind," shrugged Natasha. "It's a start."

Malone turned again to Brickwell. He knew that six months ago, the big man had gotten his ass kicked by the Batman in a very public and humiliating manner, the story of which had managed to spread amongst the underworld and dealt damage to Brickwell's reputation. Since then, any mentions of the incident while he was in earshot (unless it was his boss or the Penguin talking about him) would set him off-an event Malone had seen once too often.

And being only a few feet away from a woman who really wanted her questions about the Batman answered (and really insisted on it, to the clear discomfort of Sonny Burch), Malone had a sinking feeling that Brickwell's beat-down, and Brickwell being set off, was less a matter of 'if' than 'when'.

Going by the looks several other patrons in the vicinity gave, he was not alone in that feeling.

"Where do you wanna start?" asked Burch.

"Anywhere's good," replied Natasha. "Anything interesting? Especially stuff that hasn't made the front pages?"

"You mean like when he sent about a dozen SWAT officers in the hospital?" asked Burch.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that story before. But I'm talking about stories like that that _didn't_ make the papers."

"Well, there was this one time when he came in here looking for the Joker's hideout," began Burch (nearby, Malone groaned), "and wiped the floor with one of the guys here."

At least three or four of the eavesdropping patrons facepalmed or swore silently, knowing that the Batman's victim that day-Brickwell-happened to be a few feet away.

"I hoped that incident wouldn't get mentioned until later," muttered Malone, "and it's the first one he mentions instead."

"That is it," growled Brickwell, not able to take it anymore as he got up and began walking over to Natasha's booth.

Malone sighed in resignation, and readied himself to step in and intervene, while Natasha's boot made for Brickwell's groin.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **Sorry for the delay-I got writers' block on this chapter and the three afterwards (originally two, but this one turned out so long I had to split it in two).**

 **I would've included the bar fight, but I couldn't come up with a way to write it that I liked.**


	7. The Diner

_The Gotham Gazette-March 9, 1997: Bruce Wayne Spotted Leaving Hospital After Teeth Removal  
_

 _By Cat Grant-Billionaire and college student Bruce Wayne was spotted by our photographers leaving a private hospital in Dublin, Ireland after he checked in earlier this morning to remove his lower wisdom teeth, his usually smooth and handsome face now swollen and bruised by the procedure and looking distinctly surly from the discomfort and pain._

 _The heir to the Wayne family fortune, 21, has been studying Economics at University College Dublin in Ireland for the past year, having previously studied at Empire State University from September 1994 to June 1996 before leaving for Dublin, having Majored in Criminology and Minored in Business Studies (it has been speculated he took up the former course at ESU owing to lingering feelings regarding his parents' tragic death in 1986)._

 _An anonymous source at the hospital informed this reporter of the upcoming procedure a week in advance of the procedure, revealing that Mr. Wayne had arrived on January 30th to arrange an appointment for the removal of his wisdom teeth, allowing us at the Gotham Gazette to gain exclusive coverage and a rare insight into the private life of one of Gotham City's most eligible (and secretive) bachelors._

 _When approached, both an associate of Mr. Wayne who had come to collect him, and Mr. Wayne himself, declined to comment. Mr. Wayne's associate-currently unidentified-threatened on his client's behalf to press charges of harrassment and invasion of privacy if we came any closer._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

"You _really_ shouldn't have done that," remarked Malone as he picked himself off the pavement.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much," retorted Natasha.

"Sure you can," replied Malone, wiping the dirt from his clothes and not even bothering to hide the irritated sarcasm. "A young, attractive lady, who says she's a reporter, coming to Gotham City and asking in the local wiseguy bar about the Batman, inadvertently pissing off one of the guys in there, kneeing him in the balls, and then getting yourself and the person who broke up the fight thrown out. That's _definitely_ taking care of yourself."

"It's worked in other places before."

"Gotham...Gotham isn't 'other places'," said Malone. "It's different. How it's so, I don't have the time to explain. Just take my word on it, and drop whatever you're doing before you go somewhere you shouldn't."

"I'm not going anywhere," retorted Natasha.

Malone sighed. He knew that tone-people who said stuff in that tone usually followed through with it (himself included).

"Something tells me you're going to pester me until I give you what you want," he muttered, loud enough for her to hear him.

"Glad to see we have that cleared up," remarked Natasha.

Malone sighed again. He really didn't want to do this. But his conscience was nagging at him inside his head, telling him that if he ignored her and spurred her away, there was a chance she would endanger herself in her quest by chasing the wrong lead or interviewee. If he simply told her what he knew-at least, what he was willing to tell her about the Batman-maybe she wouldn't do this, and maybe she'd be satisfied and leave.

He wasn't entirely sure if she would do this, but it was worth a shot. It probably didn't help that she reminded him of someone whose picture he'd seen once when reading classified government files about 3 weeks before what happened in New York.

"Fine," he said to her. "But I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I'm doing this because it'd be better for you."

"How so?" asked Natasha.

"Would you rather hear about the Batman from someone who could kick your ass and worse?" asked Malone.

Natasha shook her head. 'Besides,' she thought, 'I've probably gone up against tougher creeps.'

* * *

They stepped into a nearby diner-one that, Natasha noticed, didn't seem to have any security cameras. There was still a ' _Smile, You're on Camera!_ ' sign on the wall, so maybe they wanted the customers to know that they did have cameras, they just couldn't see them. Or they were bluffing. Either way, one or two customers were probably going to feel paranoid in here.

Picking a seat near the door, but otherwise secluded, Malone and Natasha settled in as a waitress came over and took their orders (Natasha a flat white, and Malone a black coffee).

"So," asked Natasha as she leaned forward on her elbows like an enthusiastic child, "what do you have to tell me?"

"Well," began Malone, lowering his voice in case there were other mobsters in the diner (this being Gotham, this was always a possibility), "there are a few things that I could tell you about. But I'm not sure if you about them already."

"What are they?" asked Natasha inquisitively-some of this was part of her act, another part was genuine curiosity.

"Well, first of all, the one I think you're most likely to know," began Malone. "The GCPD likes to shine this goddamn eyesore into the sky at night sometimes-a floodlight with a bat silhouette. I think it looks stupid, but somehow, crooks in this city are scared shitless by it. I think that's why the Commissioner had it installed."

"Yeah, I've heard of the, uh, 'Bat-Signal'," replied Natasha, nodding slightly. "Is that the only thing worth mentioning you have?"

Malone shook his head. "This next one never made into the papers, but half the city knows about it anyway."

"What is it?"

Malone sounded like he was trying not to laugh: "Back when he started out, when he was focusing solely on the Mob, he broke into Carmine Falcone's penthouse, got him as he came out of the shower, hogtied him-still in the nude-and left him on the bed, before getting the Roman's Bentley and driving it into the harbour. Apparently he even told the Roman which pier he could find it in."

"Wow." If Natasha hadn't mastered self-control, she'd probably have doubled over laughing. That was pretty damn funny. And really ballsy-doing something like that to one of the most powerful Mafia bosses on the East Coast, aside from dealing a massive blow to said Mafia boss's ego, was a surefire way to get oneself marked as 'shoot to kill'. The fact that the Batman had continued (and was still continuing) to hack away at the criminal element in Gotham showed how much he was concerned by this danger.

At the very least, she allowed herself a humoured smirk and a slight chuckle.

"What else?"

* * *

"Well, there 's one rumour I've heard, but I haven't put much stock into it," began Malone.

"Really? So how come you're telling me?" asked Natasha, raising an eyebrow.

"Just in case it turns out that I'm wrong," replied Malone.

"Ah. So what is it?"

"Basically, the rumour is that he's a robot," replied Malone.

"A _robot_?"

Malone nodded. "Yeah. Look, I've seen the guy bleed, so either that's one hell of a robot, or he's all man."

"Any idea why people think he is?" asked Natasha.

"Seeing as he managed to seemingly survive falling from the Brown Bridge into the river, getting a condemned building dropped on him by Loeb, and Christ-knows-how-many gunshots-and all of those over an 18-month period, it's not hard to see why people might think he's not human."

"What do you think is the truth?" Natasha asked him.

"I think that he's human, but he's not one person," replied Malone. "I think it's different people. By my count, we're on Batman No. 4 right now."

"How does it go? Does the Batman before approach his successor and trains him alone, or is it a whole team?"

"Me and a few other people think he's some kind of government agent sent in as a last resort against the Mob. They kept losing FBI Agents and cops, and so they felt they needed an off-the-books, deep-cover team to act like vigilantes and throw a giant monkey wrench into everything. When the Joker and the other hammy costumed pricks showed up, Team Batman got stationed here permanently so that they could help local law enforcement deal with them."

Natasha raised her eyebrow again. She wasn't sure if it was the truth-she probably would've heard something at this point, but she knew there were things Nick Fury knew he was taking to his grave, so she didn't rule it out outright.

"So, Batman's like a codename?" she asked him. "Like, how in the movies, the name 'James Bond'-"

"Don't you dare start that," warned Malone. "There are _so_ many things wrong with _that_ theory I don't know where to begin."

"Oh...kay," she said, as the waitress finally arrived with their coffee. "So that's, what, three things you've told me about, right?"

Malone nodded. "Yeah, it is." He took a sip from his coffee, swallowed, and coughed. "Shit."

Natasha tooka drink from her own cup, and had to stop herself from gagging. He was right about the coffee.

* * *

"Is that everything you're gonna tell me?" asked Natasha.

"Is that everything you think you need?" asked Malone back.

Natasha shrugged. "Maybe. It sounds like a good start so far-especially after earlier."

"Anything would be a better start than what was going on in there," retorted Malone sarcastically.

"You're sure of that?"

"Yes. Because if you're looking for information on the Batman, you _obviously_ pick the place where the guys he's beaten the crap out of all hang out. Take my advice-head to the Public Library. It's probably the biggest collection of publicly available information on the Batman anywhere in the country."

"Alright then," she said, taking a card out of her wallet. "If you have anything new for me-anything fresher, that is-just call the number here and we can arrange another meeting."

Malone looked at her, his eyebrow raised slightly.

"You want anything in this in exchange?" she asked. "A quid pro quo?"

Malone shrugged. "I'll take anonymity," he replied. "How does that sound?"

Natasha put a hand up to her chin, her index finger pressed against her lip and her pinky finger sticking up.

Then she put her hand down, smiled politely and nodded in agreement. "Okay then. Are you sure that's all you want?"

"Whatever else I want aren't exactly things you'd be able to get," replied Malone.

"Ah. Okay."

They sat in silence for half a minute. Then Natasha spoke up.

"I guess that'll be it, huh?"

"Well, sometimes, you can see him posing like a weirdo on Wayne Tower," replied Malone. "But other than that, yeah. I know it isn't much-"

"It's okay," said Natasha back, holding up her hand. "It's a good place to start. I'll let you know if I want some more stuff from you."

"Sure thing."

* * *

Malone watch her as she walked out of the diner in a cool and collected way. He looked down at the card she had given him.

'Ingrid Johnson', it read. 'Journalist, _The Wisconsin Press_.'

Malone smirked amusedly. "What a load of crap," he muttered under his breath. He knew the name of every newspaper in the country-something that would probably make him popular among the guys at The Stacked Deck if they ever found out-and none of them were called _The Wisconsin Press_. There was the UW Press ( _University of Wisconsin Press_ ), but he had a feeling that they looked down on obtaining sources and informa

There was even a picture of her attached on the card. Just like in real life, she was good looking, and even then he was understating it.

Holding the card closer to his face, he drew it up to eye level and closed one eye.

"Damn it," he said quietly to himself. He knew who she was alright. Yes, she'd dyed her hair (or was it a wig?), and yes, she appeared to be wearing colour contacts to make her eyes look blue and not green, but he could tell it was her alright.

It could always be that lady from _In Good Company_ , but Malone dismissed the thought quickly, even if the two of them had a vague resemblance-no sane actor or actress would ever come into Gotham without first hiring bodyguards and security, and if a Hollywood star did want to research on the Batman, they wouldn't put on a disguise and go out to look for themselves.

Which meant, in his mind, there was only one other person who this woman could be.

Natalia Alianova Romanova, alias Natasha Romanoff, alias the notorious SHIELD agent 'Black Widow'.

'Which means,' he thought with some irritance, 'that SHIELD is probably back in Gotham looking for the Batman.'

He remembered the last time that SHIELD had sent people into Gotham looking for the local vigilante. From what he remembered, it had led to the agents being tied up and hung upside down from the top of Wayne Tower while being lectured by the Batman on why they should tell their boss not to do something like this again, Mayor Hady's Lincoln Versailles getting a large dent in its side, and new tyres for the Batmobile.

Quickly, he took out some money, paid for both the coffees he and the Black Widow had tried to drink, and got out of the diner. If what was happening was happening, it needed to be dealt with quickly.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **My lower wisdom teeth were removed in May, in case you were wondering where the opening article came from. I also rewrote about 3/4 of this chapter shortly before putting it up.**

 **Useless Trivia 1: The Russo Brothers are the only film directors to have directed 3 films that grossed over $1 billion each.**

 **Review if you want to.**

 **P.S.: Merry Christmas.**


	8. The Gotham Globe

_The Gotham Globe, March 2 2009: Florida Man Robs Jewellery Store In Moth Costume; Attempts Escape By_ _Jet-pack_

 _By Angela Chen-A Florida man dressed up like a moth and robbed a jewellery store in St. Petersburg before attempting to escape police using a custom-built jetpack, which ultimately malfunctioned and sent him crashing into one of the patrol cars chasing him, leading to his arrest._

 _33-year-old Drury Walker, who has previous convictions for larceny, grand theft auto and trespassing, created the unusual costume himself at home to act as a disguise while he carried out his activities, police told reporters._

 _The incident happened at 5.18pm, on February 28. Walker, wearing his full moth-suit and jetpack, marched into the jewellery store with a gun in his hand and demanded money and jewels from the clerk._

 _Once the clerk did as he had been forced, Walker loaded the valuables-roughly $9,000 in cash and $15,987 worth of jewels-into a duffel bag, ran outside the store and took off into the air using his jetpack, which had wings attached to it to provide further resemblance to a moth._

 _Police cars arriving at the scene soon began chasing Walker. Due to the jetpatck's estimated top speed of 25 miles per hour, the ensuing chase was not considered to be a particularly exciting one by the officers interviewed that took part in the chase, though they did claim it was "amusing" and "bizarre", even for Florida._

 _Unfortunately for Walker, the jetpack's malfunctioned and, having lost control, saw him raise altitude and zig-zag across the sky above the police cars chasing him before he fell out of the sky and crashed into the hood of a nearby pickup truck, fracturing his left humerus and breaking several fingers._

 _Walker was then swiftly taken off the hood of the car and taken to a nearby hospital via ambulance to treat his injuries, with the St. Petersburg Police Department formally arresting him for armed robbery and resisting arrest soon after his arrival, with his jetpack and costume confiscated as evidence._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

"Hey, Johnny, who's this?" said the security guard up at the third floor of the Gotham Globe building, where Knox's office was located.

"He's here looking for Knox," replied Johnny, the security guard from downstairs who was bringing Steve up to Knox.

"The Batman?"

"The Batman," confirmed Johnny.

The other guard turned and waved at an intern, who walked over towards him.

"Go tell Knox he's got another visitor," he said to the intern, who nodded silently and made her way over to Knox's office.

Steve and Johnny watched the intern pop her head in through the door of one office for a couple seconds before sticking it back out, turning around to face them, and raise her arm up in the air with her hand wearing a thumbs up proudly.

"Okay, Robert Capuano," said Johnny, "looks like you've got the all-clear to go in and squeeze him for everything he's got."

Alexander Knox, a middle-aged man wearing a wrinkly suit and loose tie, looked up from his typewriter to take a look at Steve and his escort. Flanking his typewriter were two cardboard shoeboxes stuffed full with notes and papers-probably old notes from his past assignments, maybe involving the Batman. In the corner was a Xerox machine.

"Who is this guy?" asked Knox.

"I, uh, I just want to know about the Batman, sir," replied Steve, afraid of being found out.

"You're here to learn about him, huh? Well, you're not the first guy to come around here asking about it."

"I know, sir," replied Steve. "This man here told me that."

"Who does he work for?"

"He said he was a freelancer and a 'true crime' writer looking to do a book about the Batman," said Johnny.

Knox seemed to be sizing Steve up a little. "What's your name, kid?"

"It's Robert Capuano," replied the security guard, showing Knox the ID.

"Okay then, Mister Capuano," said Knox with enthusiasm after giving the ID a quick once-over. "Come on in."

Steve did so.

"What about him do you want to know, kid?" Knox then asked. Glancing up at Johnny the guard, he added, "He's good with me. You can go back."

Johnny the security guard gave Steve and Knox a thumbs-up and walked out, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"So," asked Knox, "what do you want to know?"

"Well," replied Steve, an awkward smile, "I was hoping you'd be okay if I-"

"You've already said you want to look up some stuff on the Batman," interrupted Knox, though not in a rude way. "What I want to know is: what stuff about him do you want to know? I mean, this is not a small archive I have."

He gestured to the six filing cabinets behind him.

Steve shrugged. "I, well, I'm not too sure where to start. I suppose dates of his activities, uh, the number of cases he's been linked to, eyewitness testimonies...those sorts of things."

"Sure thing, Captain," agreed Knox.

"What?" asked Steve, caught off-guard.

"Well, it's just that you happen to look a little like Captain America," replied Knox.

"Oh. Do I, really?" asked Steve again.

Knox nodded. "Yeah. I almost thought you were the real thing, barring a few tiny details."

"Oh, okay."

Quickly dropping this conversation, Knox then focused on the matter at hand.

"I gotta warn you: this may take us both some time. And I'm probably going to get chewed out by my editor later seeing as I'm supposed to be writing an article on East Coast gunrunning that's got to be ready for tomorrow morning."

"I'll try and be away by then," said Steve, discretely turning on the recorder. So far, Knox seemed like a nice guy.

* * *

Knox had quite conveniently placed labels on each filing cabinet drawer and shoebox filled with notes and papers to help him with research. The shoeboxes on the desk, as it turned out, were not Batman-related: they were for other articles, such as financial crime and illegal chop shops.

"So nothing in particular, right?" asked Knox as he opened a cabinet drawer and started to sift through looking for something.

Steve shook his head. "No, no. Nothing specific or particular."

"Okay, then," replied Knox, taking out a folder and handing it to Steve.

"What's in here?" he asked.

"It's about the Joker," replied Knox. "When he first showed up."

Steve had done some research on the Joker, but there wasn't much information about him available. No record of his real name, family, or anything related to his personal life. The man was a blank slate, as if one day he had sprung out of the ground fully formed.

"Wow, Almighty," he muttered in shock at a picture of the criminal in the hospital, unconscious and on life support. From his research, he found that apparently the Joker had been lunging at the Batman with a kitchen knife, but the vigilante had moved out of the way and the Joker had swung too hard and too fast to stop, stabbing himself in the gut as a result.

Why he had been trying to stab him? The Batman had blown up the viaduct carrying water to the city after the Joker had laced the reservoir with his infamous 'Joker Venom' and foiled his plans.

Steve then read on. There were some gruesome images in there of the Joker's early victims, as well as notes and surmises based on the available evidence. There were notes about the court case, with an accompanying photograph of the Joker restrained like Hannibal Lecter (Steve had heard the comparison from Tony when Loki was gagged, but he didn't really know what it meant other than a prisoner with something over his mouth).

"Where is he now?" asked Steve.

"Hmm?" Knox looked up, having been looking through another file.

"Where's the Joker now?" asked Steve, being a little more specific.

Knox shrugged. "No idea. Nobody in town's heard from him since last August, when his plane went down 3 miles off the coast."

'The stuff I'd read up on earlier seemed to say the same thing,' thought Steve to himself.

* * *

"So have you anything about the rest of the, uh, what do they-"

"The 'Rogues Gallery', you mean?" guessed Knox, interrupting Steve before he could finish asking his question. "Oh, yeah, there's plenty of stuff on the rest of them. You wanna look?"

Steve gave a slight nod. "Sure."

"Okay, then," replied Knox, opening some more drawers and taking out folders, "there's definitely some stuff here you'll like."

Steve, unsure what to say, just stood and accepted the folders that Knox gave him as he perused his little archive.

"How many of these are you gonna give me?" he asked me as the pile became higher and higher.

"Huh? Oh."

The pile of folders and files was now up to Steve's chin, and he was using his chin to make sure they didn't fall over and spill all over the floor.

"Sorry about that."

"I guess that shows how much you think I'll be needing," suggested Steve with a smirk.

"Yeah, I guess it does," agreed Knox. "To be fair, if you want to know about the Batman, you need to know his enemies too. And there's some stuff in there that isn't really common knowledge about him or them."

"Which ones are they about?"

"Isley, Nygma, Crane, the Falcones, Zsasz, even some stuff about the Black Mask," answered Knox.

"That's all?"

Knox shook his head. "No, but that's most of it."

* * *

Steve edged his way over to the desk and carefully placed the tower onto it, making sure it was straight and that it didn't topple over.

"Are you sure I can have a look at all these?" he asked Knox.

"Yeah," replied Knox. "Just-I don't think it'd be a good idea to take those exact files. I'll need them later."

"Are you writing a book about the Batman?" asked Steve.

Knox shook his head. "No, for referencing and consistency if I need to write another Batman article in the future. But, we could Xerox a couple of these and give you the copies."

Steve turned to look at the Xerox machine in the corner. "That thing, right?"

"Never seen a photocopier before?" asked Knox.

"No, no, it's not that," Steve said quickly. "It's just we don't have one like that. Ours is smaller, and we don't use it that much."

"Alright, then," accepted Knox, though Steve wondered briefly if Knox was starting to wisen up now, or if he'd been suspicious the whole time and was playing the fool.

"You wanna read them first?" asked Knox.

"Huh? Oh, sure, yeah," agreed Steve.

"Okay, then." And Knox took out the chair from his desk and pushed it towards Steve.

"Where'll you sit?" asked Steve, confused slightly.

"I've a convertible stool-I'll be fine." Knox gestured with his thumb where the eponymous item was-squeezed in between the wall and Knox's desk.

"Ah. Alright then," said Steve, "I'll start reading, and you can work on your thing while I'm at it."

* * *

As Knox finished up his official workload, Steve read through the files, documents and folders the reporter had taken out for him.

There was a lot of material in here. Knox hadn't just handed Steve stuff about the Rogues Gallery and the Mob; he'd also thrown in one or two things about the Batman's foiling of what, compared to the more flamboyant criminals' actions, were more mundane criminal acts-muggings, convenience store robberies, and the like. He had to admit, it was all fascinating material, and definitely something that he and Natasha could use in trying to figure out the Batman.

He read through one file about Edward Nygma's criminal activities in Gotham before he was captured for the first time. He read through another file about Pamela Isley. He read another file about the 'Long Halloween'-the string of murders committed by Albert Falcone, alias the 'Holiday Killer'. He read through everything Knox had given him, and even went back to read a little more.

2 hours later, he'd read through each and every one of the files Knox had given him. Putting the last file (which focused on the Batman's campaigns against less grandiose crimes-in-progress such as muggings) on top of the newly-reformed tower, he swung his leg a little and stood up, feeling a little stiff.

Knox turned around. He noticed the tower and whistled, impressed by the speed Steve had read them at.

"You've gone through all that?" he asked still slightly in disbelief.

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

"What did you think?"

Steve shrugged. "Interesting. A lot of it."

"Which ones do you think you'll want to draw from the most?" Knox then asked him.

"Well, probably the one about him stopping petty crime, the ones discussing his fight against the Falcones, and maybe some parts of the files describing the 'Rogues Gallery'."

"Right then," said Knox. "Which ones-in the Rogues Gallery, I mean? Whose files are you going to be taking?"

"I was thinking about Isley, Nygma, Crane and Dent."

"Good choice," complimented Knox with a friendly smirk, going over to the Xerox machine and turning it on.

* * *

"This shouldn't take too much time," explained Knox as he and Steve began taking out pages from the folders to copy on the Xerox. "Maybe half an hour. I'm nearly done with my thing, and the deadline to hand it in isn't for another 2 hours, so I can help you with this."

Steve looked at him quizzically. "You're sure your editor won't mind?"

"I've been working here for 30 years," replied Knox. "When you're a reporter for that long, you eventually learn to write up pieces fast. All I really need to do is give it a once-over and make sure it's up to scratch, and then hand it in."

Steve didn't respond to this, but gave a polite nod of acknowledgement and understanding.

This didn't mean he didn't ask about something else.

"Suppose I want to meet him-the Batman, I mean," he suggested.

Knox raised an eyebrow, partly out of curiosity and partly out of suspicion. "Suppose you want to meet him, _why_?"

Steve inhaled, trying to come up with a suitable justification. "Has anyone done it? Tried to get hold of him?"

"What do you want to meet him about?" asked Knox, readying another page for copying. "He's a hard man to reach."

"I don't want to meet him, it's just a 'what-if'", pointed out Steve, internally hoping that Knox didn't get too suspicious.

"Well the traditional method is to go into a dark alley in the middle of the night, but getting yourself kidnapped by the Riddler works too," replied Knox dryly. "I wouldn't recommend it, though. It doesn't always work. And besides, he doesn't take too kindly to journalists looking for interviews."

"I see," said Steve with a sigh. "Could I get in to see anyone in the police and ask them about him?"

"You'll get a lot of different opinions," warned Knox, "but it'll be good material nonetheless. Maybe start with Davies-he's a good guy."

"Thanks." Steve smiled earnestly.

"That's everything copied, I think," said Knox, pointing at the pile of pages sitting on the tray of the Xerox machine.

Steve got an empty folder and stuck all the copies of Knox's papers into it before closing it and sticking it under his arm.

"Thanks for everything," said Steve as he stuck out his hand.

"You're welcome. Let me know if you need anything else."

Knox then shook Steve's hand and handed him his card before Steve walked out of his office.

Once Steve closed the door, Knox quickly checked to make sure nobody was looking, locked the door, and quickly sat down at his desk and opened the drawer to his left. Inside the drawer was a red phone, which he promptly took out, pressed the 'call' button and put up to his ear.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **Useless Trivia 2: Of the 6 actors who've played Batman on film since 1989, Robert Pattinson and Val Kilmer are currently the only ones who haven't been nominated for (or won) an Oscar.**


	9. Polish Shop

_The Gotham Globe, January 2 2006: The Batman Nabs Calendar Man_

 _By Alexander Knox-The Gotham-based bank robber and jewel thief known only as the Calendar Man has finally been apprehended after a decade-long crime spree, allegedly when the vigilante known as the Batman forced the getaway vehicle to collide with an electricity pole just minutes before the New Year was rung in._

 _The Calendar Man robberies began in 1994, when 6 men stole $245,000 from the Gotham National Bank on President's Day. Over the next 11 years, a further 22 robberies have taken place in Gotham City and in other cities on the East Coast, all coinciding with and themed after specific dates and holidays, with a total of $87.2 million stolen in cash, jewels and bonds, leading to the nickname being bestowed on them in 2000 after freelance journalist Victor Sage connected the President's Day heist with several other robberies that all took place on or coincided with specific holidays and dates. Consistent eyewitness accounts of a figure routinely wearing a costume co-ordinating to the holiday-possibly the ringleader of the gang-were what furthered the suggestion that these were the work of a single group._

 _This most recent attempt at larceny happened at the Gemini Jewellers. Witnesses claim that they saw the gang drive inside an alley behind the establishment in a silver grey van-since identified as a 1985 Ford Ecoline recorded as having been purchased from a used dealership in Iowa in 1999 by an unknown buyer. Five minutes later, witnesses then reported seeing a figure resembling the Batman landing on the rooftop of Gemini Jewellers and enter the building via a ventilation shaft. Within minutes, commotion and action began to take place within the store, and the Calendar Man gang made a hasty exit from the building, carrying as much loot as they could, and scrambled into the van before quickly driving out of the area, soon followed by the Batman on his motorcycle._

 _Thus began a chase lasting several blocks and up to an hour and ending when further witnesses claimed to have seen the Batman then slash the front left tire of the gang's van before slowing down and braking to avoid colliding into it. Unable to control their van, the van swerved until the driver wound up sending it crashing into an electricity pole near the Solomon Wayne Courthouse, nearly a mile from where the attempted robbery took place. According to eyewitnesses, the Batman restrained the members of the gang to prevent their escape before departing, with police arriving on the scene shortly thereafter._

 _It is the most recent criminal enterprise whose demise has been attributed to the Batman, after the criminal mastermind known as 'the Joker' was apprehended in November, the exposure of Doctor Hugo Strange's experiments on Arkham Asylum patients in July, and most notably the mass leaking of information in September accusing then-Police Commissioner Gillian B. Loeb and over 37 other GCPD officers of corruption and abuse of power and connecting Loeb and other high-ranking officers with the Falcone Crime Family. As a result of these actions, Loeb has since been arrested and charged with numerous charges at both the state and federal level, with a trial set to begin on January 19._

 _Gotham City Police have yet to confirm the identities of the Calendar Man or his associates to the public, and have refused to comment on the involvement of the Batman in their capture._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

'Matches' Malone took out the earpiece from his pocket, turned it on, and stuck it into his ear.

Once he was certain that it was securely placed in his ear, he walked out of the small bathroom and back into the main part of the store.

It was a Polish shop-it sold Polish food, Polish drinks, Polish clothing, and other products imported from Poland, all at reasonable prices and quality. Quietly and discreetly, he slipped into an aisle and positioned himself in such a way that the security cameras wouldn't be able to see him. It was probably going to bite him in the ass later, but both he and the clerk knew he was only window shopping-the clerk didn't mind whatever he did in the store so long as he didn't shoplift or break anything.

"Hello, sir? Are you there?" asked a voice coming from the earpiece. It sounded like an English gentleman-a sixtysomething English gentleman, to be exact.

"Good afternoon, Thaddeus," he said to the voice from the earpiece. "What's up?"

"You'll be interested to know that I've finally got hold of that new radio wavelength the Penguin and his men use in communicating," replied 'Thaddeus'. "And I've picked up some very interesting information on it."

"Good work," said Malone. "What did you find?"

"You'll be interested to know there's going to be a shipment of guns and ammunition coming in on the 17th of July," answered 'Thaddeus'. "It sounds like it could be the biggest haul of the year."

"Interesting," murmured Malone, picking up a packet of sweets and examining them. He swiftly put them back on the shelf when he saw how much sugar was in them.

"I'm glad you agree," remarked 'Thaddeus' dryly. "I would strongly recommend that you take caution if you plan on digging for information yourself. It could be a trap."

"Considering it's the Penguin," replied Malone as he inspected a packet of Lorenz Crunchips, "you're probably right to suggest caution."

"Thank you, sir. Speaking of investigating, what has your recent sojourn into the underworld uncovered?"

"I think SHIELD might be looking for the Batman again," answered Malone.

* * *

"Really?" 'Thaddeus' sounded genuinely surprised to hear this. "I could've sworn they would've known better after last time."

"I thought so too," said Malone, "but evidently Fury's taken things up a level."

"How so?" asked 'Thaddeus'.

"He's sent _her_ in."

"As in, the 'Black Widow'?"

"Yeah," answered Malone. "I met her at The Stacked Deck. She was pressing Sonny Burch for stuff, pretty much half the bar stopped what they were doing and tried to eavesdrop when she namedropped the Batman, Brickwell tried to shut her and paid for it by getting his gonads crushed."

"And would I be wrong to assume that was the end of it?"

"No," answered Malone. "She's not alone in Gotham."

"You mean to tell me Barton's back in Gotham? It seems a bit early for that, given that last we heard, he's still recovering from Loki."

"So who is that Director Fury has sent in his stead to accompany Miss Romanova to Gotham, if you don't mind me asking, sir?" asked 'Thaddeus'.

"Knox called me using the Red Phone about an hour ago," replied Malone. "Someone who looked a lot like Steve Rogers was in his office asking for stuff about the Batman. Knox doesn't seem to have seen the harm in letting him Xerox some of his notes, and he's definitely smart enough to tip me off about something this suspicious, but I've a feeling he hasn't really realized that that was probably the real deal in there."

"Should we let him know?" suggested 'Thaddeus'.

"Not a good idea," replied Malone, now reading the ingredients label of a can of soup. "The nosebleed he'd get from that information would probably kill him. We'd be better off focusing on the implications of that visit to Knox's office."

"The implications being that Natasha Romanova, alias Natasha Romanoff, alias the 'Black Widow', is being accompanied by Captain America himself, Steve Rogers, in searching for the Batman on behalf of SHIELD?"

"Precisely."

"In that case, we're going to have to come up with a plan to deal with them."

* * *

"Have you any ideas?" asked Malone.

"For starters, why are they here in Gotham, and why are they so interested in the Batman?"

"Isn't the first reason obvious? The Avengers," answered Malone.

"You mean to suggest Nick Fury wants the Batman to join the Avengers?"

"Why do you think he sent those other agents in? He wanted them to make contact with the Batman and see about joining. And even though 6 Avengers were all that were needed to stop what happened in New York, he's probably smart enough to know that that might not be enough if the next invasion comes."

"Surely his time looking for superhero recruits would be better spent looking for people with _actual_ superpowers, don't you think, sir?" remarked 'Thaddeus' dryly. "As opposed to a madman in a costume who jumps around rooftops?"

Malone snorted. That was actually pretty funny.

"You're not wrong there. Not just that, but half the Avengers fill positions the Batman could be used for, so if he wants a team with a diverse set of skills, recruiting the Batman won't do. Heck, if the Ant-Man's still alive, he'd be a better pick to join the team."

"Seeing as the Ant-Man is probably in his mid-60s at the youngest, sir, and most certainly too old for active field work, it would probably only be in a consultation role."

"Unless he's found a successor," pointed out Malone, deciding he had spent enough time loitering inside the shop. "Then Fury could recruit the his successor to be on the team proper and the original as a consultant."

"An equally valid point, sir. Though perhaps it couldn't hurt him to have another Avenger with a similar set of skills to some of the others. In case one or two of them wind up incapacitated."

"That isn't the worst idea in the world, actually. Widow and Hawkeye would be the easiest to replace in theory, for a start, but the trouble is in finding replacements for them who are just as good at what they do. And God knows how hard it'll be to find someone with Tony Stark's mind."

"Unfortunately those people are vastly outnumbered by people who match his ego," remarked 'Thaddeus' wryly.

* * *

Malone exited the Polish shop and began to head towards his car-a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88, parked next to the sidewalk. Thankfully, there weren't any cars parked behind it.

"Anything else you picked up from the radio chatter?" asked Malone as he opened the door.

"Not much, I'm afraid," replied 'Thaddeus'. "Though there were one or two mumblings about the Penguin putting a price on the Batman's head-a rather hefty one, at that."

Malone rolled his eyes. This wasn't the first time a bounty had been put on the Batman's head-Carmine Falcone had announced a $50 million contract for the Batman's dead body after the incident with the Bentley. Seeing as this was the early days-before criminals outside of Gotham took the talk of the Batman seriously, when they thought he was just an urban legend-few bought it (it didn't help that it was issued around the time of the 'Monster Men' rampage). "How much is it this time?"

"Well, the men whom I first heard it from seemed to believe it was $100 million," replied 'Thaddeus' matter-of-factly. "However, I managed to catch a few of the Penguin's lieutenants speaking about it, and they said it was only $90 million."

"And Black Mask isn't issuing a similar reward?" asked Malone, sticking the key into the Delta 88's ignition switch.

"Not that I know of, sir," came the reply as Malone turned the key and started the engine. "And seeing as that was the Delta's engine I just heard, I take it you're finished with your excursion into the city's underbelly?"

"Yes, I am, and I'll be heading home too," replied Malone. "I want to start working on how to deal with the two Avengers here as soon as possible. And we should probably check the usual spot tonight too."

"Including our old friend?" asked 'Thaddeus'.

"Yeah, we'll have to let him know too," agreed Malone, pulling out of the parking spot and starting down the street the moment he saw an opening. "A $90 million contract is going to attract a lot of people-and not the kind of people he'd want in Gotham."

"A wise decision, sir. I expect you shall be doing so yourself before you arrive back home?"

"I will-as soon as we hang up. I might let him know about the two Avengers too-or maybe not: he shouldn't have to worry about that too much."

"Quite right, sir," replied 'Thaddeus'. "And one more thing: our guest wants to invite a friend over. A girl."

"Huh. That's news. I'll...I'll talk to him when I get back about that."

"Of course, sir. Over and out."

'Thaddeus' switched off, and Malone manoeuvred through the traffic and onto the road leading to the city outskirts.

To home. To the Batcave.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **1\. Given her previous nominations were in 2016 and 2018, I expect Saoirse Ronan's next Best Actress nomination will probably be in 2022. Though if _Ammonite_ is any good and comes out by the end of the year, she might get a Supporting Actress nod next January.**

 **2\. I'm disappointed that Steven Spielberg won't be doing _Indiana Jones 5_. But I've seen _3:10 to Yuma_ , _Logan_ , and _Ford v. Ferrari_ , and I can say James Mangold's a good a choice as any to succeed him.**


	10. Hotel Room & Office

_The Gotham Chronicle, June 1 2010: Bruce Wayne Spotted With Old Flame_

 _By Joan Lincoln-Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy bachelor, Bruce Wayne, has been recently spotted in the company of one of his many ex-girlfriends on what appeared to be a romantic rendezvous at the Ocelot Bistro._

 _Selina Kyle-a Gotham City native and art dealer-was initially in a relationship with Mr. Wayne starting in May 2006, but their relationship ended abruptly and mysteriously in January 2008, with Ms. Kyle then leaving Gotham a month later and travelling around Europe, where she avoided reporters and press inquiring over her relationship with the billionaire with considerable success, before dividing her time between Rome, Italy and Paris, France. She has since returned to Gotham City to take up the position of curator at the Gotham Museum of Art, seemingly suggesting that her current stay in Gotham will be a permanent one._

 _In addition to Ms. Kyle, Bruce Wayne has also had high-profile relationships with reporters Christine Everhart, Charlotte Rivers and Vicki Vale, actress and philanthropist Julie Madison, supermodel Jezebel Jet, socialites Silver St. Cloud and Miranda Tate, and psychiatrist Chase Meridian, along with a slew of short-term hookups with various beautiful women that has enhanced his reputation as a playboy womanizer to rival Tony Stark, and has led to just as many pop-psychologists and psychiatrists attempting to use them to analyse Wayne's own psyche and speculate on his personality._

 _Whether or not this will turn out to be only a mere dalliance or evole into a longer-lasting relationship remains to be seen for now, but it's worth noting that Ms. Kyle has now taken the rare distinction of becoming the first of Mr. Wayne's former lovers to come back to him and attempt to rekindle their relationship. So maybe that does mean something after all?_

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

"So, how'd it go?" asked Natasha when Steve walked in through the hotel room door, a rather full folder under his arm. Natasha had changed into a grey T-shirt and matching grey sweatpants and was now reading through the SHIELD fine on the Batman, in addition to looking over notes she had scribbled down based on what 'Matches' Malone had told her in the diner.

It was now 6.30pm.

"Knox…Knox was helpful," replied Steve.

"Alexander Knox, the journalist at the _Gotham Globe_ , right?" asked Natasha.

"Yeah, that's him," confirmed Steve.

"How did he help?" Natasha again asked.

"He Xeroxed some papers he had about the Batman that he had in his files for me to look at," Steve answered back. "He seems like he's a nice guy, and like he knows his stuff about the Batman. I've got some of them here in this folder."

"So that's why you're carrying that thing under your arm, huh?"

"Yeah. How'd your trip go?"

"It was…eventful," she replied. "I got tossed out of the bar because one of the patrons was uncomfortable with me asking about the Batman, and probably because my foot might've kicked his balls back into his body."

Steve winced. "That's not everything that happened, right?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. One of the guys there took me to a diner and gave me some stuff that sounded useful."

"Good to know," said Steve sincerely. "What did you pick up?"

* * *

"Some of it was stuff we already know," replied Natasha. "The signal that the GCPD shines from the rooftop, for one. Some very interesting conspiracy theories too. And one really interesting story about the late Carmine Falcone getting tied up naked and his car driven off the harbour."

Steve didn't know how to respond to that last one. He decided not to.

"What about you?" Natasha then asked him.

"Huh? Oh, right. You mean what did I find out?" asked Steve back, before answering. "A lot of stuff about his enemies-especially some things that I was a little skeptical of when I read the SHIELD files, but seeing them here makes me doubt that."

"You've faced HYDRA and their technology, you've fought alongside a god and a man wearing an armoured suit, and against actual aliens," Natasha replied dryly. "I think from this point onward, it'd be a good idea to have an open mind about things."

"That is a good point. I guess I'm still trying to adjust to that thinking."

"It's fine, really. I mean, for you, all this has happened in a very short space of time. I don't know how that feels, but I imagine it'd be pretty hard to handle," added Natasha, her voice featuring some empathy for her partner.

Steve nodded. "You're right. Me getting selected by Erskine still feels like it was only 3 or 4 years ago. I'm getting better at getting used to it, though. Though a woman who can do mind-control through plants and a giant crocodile-man still feel a little 'out-there'."

"You're probably not the only one," remarked Natasha.

Steve took off his jacket and sat down on his bed. "So what's the plan now?"

"I'm still trying to get down everything that Malone told me in the diner, then go over both it and the SHIELD file on the Batman for a while. I might take a look at what you've brought in too, if that's okay, and you can look at what I have. It shouldn't take much longer than an hour."

"And then?"

* * *

"Dinner," replied Natasha bluntly. "We're both human, and we both need to eat at some point. I hear there's a great Chinese place not far from here. We can either order take out or we can eat inside."

"Sounds good," agreed Steve. "I don't really mind what we eat, so long as it doesn't taste horrible and doesn't try to kill me."

"We'll be in luck, I reckon," remarked Natasha. "Because I hear that Gotham restaurants serve really, really good food, and they also pay pretty close attention to health and safety codes. It probably hasn't stopped the Batman beating a goon in the kitchen with a skillet, but it's nice to know that the city widely considered the most corrupt in America doesn't slack on keeping the eateries sanitised and clean."

"And that there is one great thing about now compared to then," commented Steve. "People actually taking this stuff seriously and everyone else not having to worry about getting sick from how the veal was handled in the kitchen."

"You want us to take the night off, or should we continue our Bat-hunt tonight too?" asked Natasha, changing the coversation back to the original topic.

"I'm not completely sure there," replied Steve. "If we bait a trap for him-as in, we set ourselves up to getting mugged so that he can rush in and 'rescue' us-he'd probably be a little ticked off because we'd be wasting time he could be spending stopping real crimes in progress. That might not exactly endear us to him."

"Seeing as we're meant to find a way to meet him in order to see if he's willing to join the Avengers," retorted Natasha, "we'll end up doing that anyway. Plus, the fact that we're doing it to see if he'd join-or at least consider-the Avengers would probably make him less pissed off than if we were just chasing him and wasting his time for an autograph."

Steve nodded. "Point taken."

"So, would you be willing to go out tonight looking for him?" asked Natasha.

A few seconds of final contemplation, then Steve made up his mind. "Yeah. I think we could do it. We go through this stuff, we go eat at that Chinese place you mentioned, and then we go out and start searching for him. It sounds pretty straightforward."

"You're tempting fate there," remarked Natasha. "Now it definitely won't be straightforward."

* * *

Sonny Burch felt uncomfortable sitting where he was.

Flanking him, but not sitting down like he was, were two big men-probably 6 feet 4 inches tall with well-built bodies-wearing black and white three-piece suits.

Standing on either side of the door were two more guys that were similarly built and dressed to the other two, but they each held an Uzi-in case some unwanted visitors arrived and interrupted them.

Sitting on the other side of the desk to Burch were two men: one of them fat and balding with a prominent nose and a monocle, and the other a slim man wearing a white suit and black shirt, but his face and head were covered by the wooden skull-like mask he wore over it.

The Penguin and the Black Mask, two of the biggest crime lords in Gotham City.

"So," said the Black Mask aloud, "what else do you know about this chick, Burch?"

Burch gulped. He was well aware of the Black Mask's reputation for torture, and he did not want to piss him off in case it led to him becoming the crime lord's latest plaything.

"I…I don't know anything else," replied Burch. "That's everything I do know, what I just told you."

"Are you sure?" asked the Black Mask with a curious, yet sinister, tone. "It wouldn't be good for you to forget anything."

"I'm dead serious," Burch said, fear slipping into his voice. "If I knew anything else, I'd tell you. God knows I know what would happen to me if I lied to you."

"From a certain point of view, what you're doing isn't lying," agreed the Black Mask, "but the definition of lying is the omission of truth. There may be a few things you don't know about this matter, which qualifies as omitting truth, so in that regard, maybe you _are_ lying to me."

Burch opened his mouth to continue his defense and denial, but instead began stammering and sputtering, while his breathing quickened.

"Don't be like that, Sonny," said the Penguin politely, as if he was the 'good cop'. "You've nothing to be afraid of. After all, my colleague here may have some...eccentricities, but he wouldn't do anything to you while I'm here, and so long as you've done nothing to offend him."

* * *

At that moment, Lark walked into the room. Walking over to the Penguin's side of the desk, she whispered something into her boss's ear. He listened to her attentively.

"I see. Hmm, interesting," he murmured. Burch had no idea what he was talking about, or what Lark was whispering to him about, and he was smart enough to know that it would be a bad idea to try and eavesdrop-sure, the Penguin was acting as the 'good mobster', so to speak, but bad things happened to people who pissed him off, so it was always a good idea to try and stay on his good side.

The Black Mask sighed, as if he was bored, and grabbed Burch by the hand and forced it onto the desk.

"Keep it there, and open your fingers up," he told Burch menacingly.

Burch did so, and as the Black Mask took out a Bowie knife, he realized just why he had been asked to keep his fingers open and put his hand on the table for the masked crime boss.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, four, three, five, two, one, three, one," growled the Black Mask gleefully as he stabbed the desk in-between Burch's fingers, going faster and faster the longer he continued.

"Alright, then. Tell him he can come in when I'm ready for him," the Penguin told Lark. She nodded, signalling that she would do so, and then left the room.

The Penguin then turned to the Black Mask, who was still playing the knife game with Burch's hand-Burch himself looked like he was hyperventilating and on the verge of tears. That said, he hadn't gotten so much as a cut-the desk, on the other hand, looked very much the worse for wear.

"Please, stop that, now," he told the Black Mask sternly, without dropping the polite tone of voice. The other crime boss obliged him, though both Burch and the Penguin could tell that he didn't really want to, and merely wanted to continue playing the knife game with Burch. Burch, for his part, could not have removed his hand from the desk faster if he had tried.

"One of my people has found Brickwell and convinced him to give his side of the story," explained the Penguin. "His record of the incident matches yours quite strongly, so it seems you were indeed telling the truth, Sonny. You're free to go."

"Th-thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," said Burch, stammering slightly as he shook the Penguin's hand.

* * *

Almost immediately after Burch exited the office (very quickly) and shut the door, the Penguin and the Black Mask began to discuss what they had heard from him.

"So, what do you make of his little testimony, Penguin?" asked the Black Mask.

"I think 'Matches' Malone is a smart man," remarked the Penguin, seemingly missing the point. "He saw that Brickwell moving up to them-and this mystery woman's curiosity about the Batman-would lead to a fight, and he tried to break it up. After all, The Stacked Deck is meant to be a place of peace in the underworld; someone has to try and ensure that that sanctity is respected. Though given that there usually ends up being a bar brawl every month or so anyway, it seems we need someone there to make it so permanently. It's a pity he found himself tossed out for his troubles. I'll speak to the manager and see if I can pay off his tab. Hopefully, he saw fit to divert the mystery woman onto a saner course that didn't get her killed."

The Black Mask looked at his partner oddly. "Why are you so concerned about her?" he asked.

"Because it sounded like she was a journalist," explained the Penguin. "Falcone and Maroni could kill as many of them as they liked back when they ruled the city, but that was then. Now, the Batman and the Commissioner will start breathing down our necks if they think we've anything to do with a journalist's murder here, as much as I'd like to find a way to go after Vale and Ryder."

"You and me both," muttered Black Mask before going back to the main subject. "That still doesn't explain a number of things. Firstly: why the hell does she want to know stuff about the Batman, especially from people in our business? Secondly: who is she?"

"Very interesting questions. As is this one: _why_ should you care? She's not the only journalist or author trying to make their way into Gotham to dig up dirt on the Batman, and by God she won't be the last. So long as she keeps her nose out of our territory and away from us, she won't be a problem and she can look for as much information on the pointy-eared bastard as she likes."

"It still doesn't sit well with me, Penguin. And Brickwell...well, he won't like it. And you know how I like to make my men trust me and respect me..."

'When you don't decide on a whim to torture them personally whenever they piss you off,' thought the Penguin, knowing better than to say that out loud. 'You're almost as bad as Joker was. _Almost_.'

"Tell Brickwell I'll keep her under surveillance," decided the Penguin. "Malone can do it-he's trustworthy and he's familiar with her. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

"I think so," agreed Black Mask, so the two mob bosses shook hands.

The door opened again, and Lark stepped in once more.

"We're ready to see him now," informed the Penguin. "Would you mind letting him know and send him in?"

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **Fantasy-casting for this fic, part 1: Ewan McGregor as Black Mask, Timothy Spall as Penguin, Audrey Tautou as 'Lark', and Patrick Wilson as Thomas Blake.**


	11. The Rooftops of Burnside

_The Gotham Globe, August 9, 2008: The Joker Escapes From Arkham Asylum_

 _By Alexander Knox-Gotham City police and New Jersey state police are on the hunt after the criminal mastermind known only as the Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum in the late hours of yesterday evening after a therapy session with his psychiatrist._

 _Details of the escape-the Joker's first since October 2006 and his subsequent capture by the Batman and the GCPD on New Year's Day 2007 after a failed attempt to release a gas form of his signature 'Joker Toxin' on a crowded Gotham Square, and his second escape from custody overall-are still emerging as of this writing, though there has been little information revealed so far as to how the Joker acquired the means to escape, with the possibility that it was a particularly embarrassing one for the institution not being unlikely._

 _Arkham Asylum administrator Jeremiah Arkham-the great-newphew of the institute's original founder, Amadeus Arkham-has confirmed he will be working with the Gotham City Police Department to figure out how this incident was able to happen and uncover how exactly the Joker was able to escape despite the implementation of increased security measures introduced in the wake of a failed escape attempt by Jonathan 'Scarecrow' Crane in December 2007, which saw 2 guards injured and a third killed. Dr Harleen Quinzel-who was assigned to treat the Joker in February and a former student of Crane himself-was not available for comment, and has declined further requests to be interviewed by members of the press._

 _During his time in Arkham Asylum, the Joker's gang-believed to comprise at least 50 men-continued to commit crimes across the city and wreak war upon the traditional organized crime syndicates, and recent evidence has come to light suggesting that somehow the Joker has continued to communicate and issue orders to his minions from within Arkham's walls, possibly via an inside agent (or several). With the head of that organization now free and at large, the potential for even greater terror in Gotham has risen, and with it the need to capture the escaped mastermind once more and ensure further that he cannot escape again._

 _GCPD Commissioner Gordon-appointed to the position in May 2007-declined to comment when he arrived at the scene. Police Chief O'Hara, when approached by members of the press, strongly recommended that under no circumstances is the Joker to be approached, and any sightings by members of the public are to be reported immediately to the GCPD._

* * *

 _July 9 2012_

Steve and Natasha spent over an hour poring over everything they had gathered before they left the hotel for the Chinese restaurant, before heading back to change clothes and leave again to go 'Bat-hunting'.

They decided to start by going over to the Burnside area first. Compared to other regions of Gotham, it was more peaceful and less crime-ridden, so in theory, any crimes that did take place in the area would be more easily noticed by the Batman.

Right now, it was 10.32pm. They had been in the area for an hour, and there was still no sign of the Batman anywhere. Not only that, but the only events that had happened-2 muggings and a break-in at a liquor store-had been easily subdued by police, with no need for a winged avenger.

Neither of them were particularly put out by this lack of luck thus far, though-the night was still young, and they had only been in Gotham since this afternoon: it would have been unrealistic and overoptimistic for them to be hoping for the best right off the mark.

Both Natasha and Steve were well aware that they couldn't just wander around the area the whole night, so they had come to the decision that, if by 11.30pm they still had not come across the Batman in the area, they would leave Burnside and head over to another part of the city and wait for him to show up there.

They were also well aware that if they kept on patrolling the sidewalks this way, people would start to get suspicious. So, at 10.00, they had gone inside a nearby nightclub for about half an hour and tried their best to fit in and not look like Avengers-disguised-as-reporters-pretending-to-be-simple-dancers (and Steve wound up buying and drinking his first-ever tequila, learning in the process that he did _not_ like the taste).

By 10.30pm, having had enough of the nightclub, they were back outside and checking the area for anything that may attract the the Batman's attention or the Batman himself.

"So far, not much crime, let alone crime that would attract the guy we want to meet," remarked Natasha, not bringing up the guy who had tried to cop a feel in the nightclub and ended up with a broken wrist.

"The night's still young," pointed out Steve with a little optimism. "We might find him soon enough."

"True, true," agreed Natasha, with some skepticism. "But we're dealing with someone whose patrol routes are not easy to predict, and who SHIELD has tried to contact in the past. Given the Chitauri invasion, he might be preparing for a third encounter..."

Natasha trailed off slightly, as if she'd seen something.

"What?" asked Steve.

"I think I just saw him," answered Natasha slowly, as she rose from the bench.

* * *

Steve turned quickly to the direction Natasha was looking at, and sure enough, there it was: someone running and jumping along the rooftops a good thousand or so feet away, with what looked like a cape billowing behind it.

"We should follow him," he said, as he too stood up off the bench.

"Oh yeah," agreed Natasha quickly, and the two Avengers began racing down the path in the direction of the mysterious caped figure.

Which was easier said than done, as said caped figure was travelling on the rooftops, while they were down on the ground-it was not unlikely that they would end up losing him from where they were unless all three of them were travelling on equal terrain.

"We gotta get on the roof," said Steve to Natasha.

"Yeah," she said simply, and the two Avengers quickly ran across to the other side into an alley.

Luckily for them, the fire escape wasn't too far from the street. Steve-who was now in front of Natasha-jumped and grabbed onto the ladder, causing it to go down as he climbed to the top.

"Don't wait for me!" he heard Natasha call to him. While he wasn't too keen on not waiting for her, he knew if he did they'd miss their chance, and ran up the fire escape as fast as he could, turning on the piece in his ear so he could talk to Natasha.

Reaching the top, he spotted the Batman in the distance: he was now motionless, and seemed to be looking out for something.

'Or someone,' thought Steve as he ran to the edge of the building and jumped quickly onto the one next to it (there was no alley here). Seeing that the Batman was still motionless, he continued to run and jump across the rooftops towards him.

"How far away are you?" Natasha asked him through the earpiece. Steve turned around quickly to see her jumping over an alley and land with a tumble onto the gravel of the rooftop about 3-4 rooftops away.

"Not too far," replied Steve, eyes now back on the Batman. He was now on the move again.

"Damn it," he muttered, and began chasing off after it again. Natasha, seeing the two of them move and the direction the Batman was now heading in, began to push herself to go faster, leaping across the next gap like an Olympian, but nearly breaking her wrist on the landing.

* * *

"Shit," she muttered, breathing in through her mouth with a hiss.

"Language," rebuked Steve lightly, continuing to run after the Batman.

"You try jumping that gap and landing on your arm," retorted Natasha as she got back up and kept on running towards Steve and the Batman.

"I think he's stopping," noticed Steve. "He might've seen me."

Quickly, Steve stopped running and dove behind a ventilation duct (a ventilation duct that seemed larger than most of the ones he was familiar with, and definitely large enough for a person to climb through without getting stuck). Slowly peeking from behind the duct to check on the Batman, he saw that not only was he closer now to Steve, but had stopped moving, and now was looking in the direction of both Steve and Natasha.

Steve ducked his head back and turned around to see where Natasha was. She was still running and jumping across, and was now almost caught up to Steve's position.

"Be careful," he told her through the earpiece. "I think he's looking this way now."

"Damn it," muttered Natasha, slowing herself to a halt and grabbing hold of a ventilation duct so that the momentum built didn't carry her off the building before scrambling behind said ventilation duct. Right now, she was about 3 rooftops away from Steve.

"So," she asked Steve, through the earpiece, "is he still there?"

Steve peeked his head over the duct once again. "Yeah, he's still there," he told Natasha, his voice a little quieter in case the Batman heard it. "He's still looking in this direction. You'd better try and be discreet if you want to make your way over to my position."

"Thanks for the advice," replied Natasha sincerely, as she looked over the ventilation duct herself to get a look at the Batman. "How far away do you reckon he is from you?"

"I'd say about, maybe 150 to 200 feet," answered Steve, as Natasha moved away from where the Batman was looking to a more sheltered part of the rooftop in order to cross over to the next one.

"Do you think he can still see you?" Steve then asked.

"I don't think so, but from here it's a little hard to tell," replied Natasha as she ran to the edge, managing to make the jump, but failing to land right onto the rooftop: instead, she found herself grabbing onto the edge, the slam onto the wall knocking most of the air out of her, causing her to gasp loudly as she struggled to climb up.

* * *

"Natasha! Are-are you okay?" asked Steve concernedly, starting to consider going back to help Natasha up, even if it meant losing the Batman.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Steve, I'm fine," replied Natasha as she slowly heaved herself over the edge and onto the rooftop. "You...you just keep an eye on him, okay? I've been in worse situations than this."

"So have I," said Steve quietly to himself as he continued to focus his gaze on the Batman. "So have I."

It didn't take long for Natasha to get herself safe and secure on the rooftop, and when she did, she saw that the Batman was still in the same spot, but was now looking in another direction. Taking advantage of this lapse in concentration on its part, she began to run as quickly as she could and leaped over to the other side of the 5 feet gap.

Now the caped figure was moving once again, and she didn't need to see it (only to hear it) to know that Steve was chasing after.

Gradually, she built up speed herself, ignoring the pain in her side from where she had slammed into the wall during the earlier jump across. Thankfully, she was careful to avoid the same thing happening again as she and Steve raced after the caped figure.

'He's had parkour training,' noted Natasha to herself about their caped quarry, while also closing the distance between herself and Steve. 'Speaking of parkour, I'm not sure if Steve's even heard the term before, but it looks like he'd be pretty damn good at it. He's a quick learner.'

As they ran after him, it occurred to Steve and Natasha that their target was incredibly agile: he was leaping, running and somersaulting from rooftop to rooftop like it was second nature. Not only that, but they were also starting to wonder if he was leading them around on purpose: they both knew that the Batman had a reputation for appearing and disappearing almost out of thin air, and neither of them were (regrettably) that quiet, so the fact he was seemingly doing nothing to shake them off his tail seemed to support this hypothesis.

It was not long before these ideas were voiced by the two Avengers.

"I think he must have one hell of a gymnastics coach," remarked Natasha through the earpiece, finally only a couple metres behind Steve (her side was really sore now, but she knew it wasn't serious right now and could be taken care of later). "That, and he might know we're behind him."

"I think you might be right," replied Steve, pausing to jump across a short gap between buildings (3 feet). "Maybe he's testing us."

"We're still following him though."

"Yeah."

* * *

Eventually, after over a mile of continuously following just as they were coming closer to the caped figure, he jumped off the edge of the rooftop one building and dove down into the alley below.

"Damn it!" muttered Steve as he and Natasha reached the edge. Looking over the edge of the building and down at the alley below, they couldn't see any sign of their quarry whatsoever. A quick glance to the street also told them that they were no longer in the Burnside area.

What they could see, however, was a young couple walking into they alley, followed by a group of 6 tough, thuggish-looking men who clearly had ill intent towards the couple.

"Wait," said Natasha firmly, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder just as he was about stand up and go down to help the couple. "Just in case he's down there. This would be a good opportunity to see him in action. If he isn't, we'll go down ourselves."

Steve nodded his head, agreeing. While he didn't like this much-having to sit down and watch and risk innocent people being hurt was never something he was a fan of-but so long as the Batman was in the area, the couple would hopefully be fine.

The thugs circled around the couple, and neither Natasha or Steve liked what they were saying to them. Best-case scenario was a simple robbery; worst-case was something they did not want to think about.

But before the leader took another step closer, a rope came out of the darkness and lassoed itself around his arm, pulling him back and causing him to drop the knife. Then, a figure jumped out and kicked the leader in the face, knocking him out cold, before he then took on the remaining 5 with ease, grabbing their attention and allowing the couple the opportunity to escape.

Watching him subdue the thugs, Natasha and Steve learned three things:

1\. This guy knew how to fight (Natasha counted moves from judo, karate and Krav Maga; Steve saw a little bit of Defendu).

2\. This was most likely the guy they had been chasing the whole time.

3\. They had been chasing the wrong guy this whole time, because whoever he was, he was _not_ the Batman.

* * *

Natasha and Steve were pretty sure the Batman didn't wear a domino mask and that a red tunic and yellow cape lining (the exterior part of the cape was a dark colour; Natasha suspected it was pine green) were not part of his costume.

Also, the Batman had been operating since 2005: if he was just one man, he would have to be somewhere in his mid-30s by now. Despite being 6 stories up, Natasha and Steve could both see that whoever this was, he was much younger.

"Does SHIELD know that there's another vigilante in Gotham?" asked Steve.

Natasha shook her head. "This is the first time I've encountered this guy. Maybe the Batman found himself a protege."

"You aren't wrong," said a dark voice from behind them.

Natasha and Steve turned around immediately, realizing just who it was that had spoken to them.

The costume looked to be made of similar materials as Steve's Captain America uniform, but darker: the cape, cowl, gauntlets/gloves, boots and trunks were black, as was the bat-shaped symbol on his chest and the knight-like shoulder armour that connected the cape to the costume; the rest of the suit was a dark grey, while the utility belt seemed to be a brown or bronze colour.

He was of a similar build to Steve, but Natasha and Steve could tell that he was slightly slimmer, despite the armour.

"I appreciate your actions in New York, but Gotham is _my_ city," the Batman continued.

Natasha's eyes widened, and she cursed inside. She should have expected that he would know who they were.

'Which means he probably knows why we're here, too,' she thought to herself.

"In addition, this conversation is a waste of my time and this entire venture a waste of yours," the Batman added. "I'm not interested."

With that, he fired his grappling gun at an overheard police airship, took off from the building and disappeared into the night.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **The** **Batsuit here is pretty much the one from _Batman: Noel_.**


	12. GCPD Rooftop

_The Gotham Times, March 12, 2006: Second Arkham Psychiatrist Dismissed for Experiments on Patients_

 _By Vicki Vale-Psychiatrist Jonathan Crane has been dismissed from his position at Arkham Asylum after investigations found that he had been violating the facility's code of conduct and he been experimenting on numerous patients under his care._

 _Dr Crane (48), a former Professor of Criminal Psychology at Gotham State University and a noted expert on the study of phobias and their effects on the human mind (he has written several articles and essays on the subject for The American Journal of Psychiatry and various other psychiatric and medical journals), was initially hired to work at Arkham in August 2000, after he was dismissed from Gotham State University for his unorthodox teaching methods._

 _This is the second major dismissal from Arkham Asylum in the past 12 months, after Dr Hugo Strange-a former Professor of Psychology for Empire State University in New York, and appointed the institution's administrator in 1996-was dismissed in July 2005 after evidence leaked of his own experiments on patients, some of whom-nicknamed by Jack Ryder the 'Monster Men'-escaped and wreaked havoc in Gotham before being subdued by the mysterious vigilante known as the Batman, who is also believed to have had a hand in exposing Strange's experiments. After his medical licence was revoked by unanimous vote by the New Jersey Medical Board, Strange has since disappeared, with his last reported sighting being on August 9, and his whereabouts currently unknown._

 _The investigation into Dr Crane's own experiments began in September, in the wake of Strange's dismissal and disappearance, when the Arkham board elected to begin a full internal investigation of its staff. The investigation saw Arkham head of security Lyle Bolton fired for misconduct and abuse of the patients in December and two doctors being fired in February for negligence and incompetence. Dr Crane's own actions were uncovered when an orderly found a journal belonging to him, listing various formulae for a specialized hallhallucinogenic toxin that purportedly stimulated fear processes and caused patients to hallucinate various phobias. Further inquiries revealed that Dr Crane had been experimenting on his patients since 2001 and may have been working on the hallucinogenics since his time at Gotham State University, and when brought before the Arkham board to answer for his actions, Crane admitted that Strange had not only been aware of his experiments on the patients, but had also encouraged him to continue in conjunction with his own experiments._

 _In addition to his dismissal, Doctor Jeremiah Arkham-Strange's successor as Arkham administrator and great-grandson of Arkham Asylum founder Amadeus Arkham-has approached the New Jersey Medical Board to have Dr Crane's medical licence revoked, while the possibility that Dr Crane may face criminal charges for his actions is not unlikely. The institution is also facing lawsuits from the families of at 5 patients who were experimented on by either Crane or Strange, which could cost the facility up to $4 million in legal fees and settlements._

* * *

 _July 10 2012_

Commissioner James Gordon stood next to the Bat-Signal, his hands in the pockets of his faded brown trousers and his beige trenchcoat billowing slightly in the wind. He was alone up here; he usually was, but it was alright-it gave him time to think about things. About his job, about his home, about his daughter, about his friends. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his Billiard pipe and stuck it into his mouth. There was no tobacco inside it-he had given up smoking years ago-but he still held onto it, probably out of force of habit (it was times like this, when he was on his own and needed to think about things, that he had lit it up).

He blinked; when he opened his eyes again, Batman had appeared on the roof. In the distance, sitting on a water tower, he could see the vigilante's protege, Robin-it was the first time he had seen the kid in a couple weeks (well, he looked like a kid; maybe he just looked younger than he really was). He waved at the kid. The kid saw it and waved back.

"It's good to see you again," Gordon told Batman with a knowing smile.

"Likewise, Jim," replied Batman as the two men shook hands like old friends. "Any news?"

"Well, we've finally identified the man running the Joker's old gang," repleid Gordon. "It's Jonny Frost. Remember him?"

Batman nodded. "One of his earlier recruits. I was wondering what happened to him."

"He's been trying to stay below the radar and keep us from noticing him involved in anything fishy ever since what happened with his boss," explained Gordon. "Seeing as it's taken us this long to pin him as the top man of the bastard's crew, it seems like it's worked."

"Interesting to know," remarked Batman. "Also, I finally found the radio frequency that the Penguin and his men have been using to communicate on. You might be interested to know that he's bringing in an arms shipment at the docks on the 17th. I don't know what the name of the ship is yet, but I'll find out."

"After you helped us seize that cache of his back in April, I shouldn't be too surprised he's trying to restock," replied Gordon. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll tell Bullock and the MCU to keep an eye on it and be ready to greet it when it comes ashore. Maybe it'll finally be enough for Cobblepot to see the inside of a prison cell for longer than a year, so long as we can tie it to him, that is."

"And if anything on board that ship happens to violate the NFA," added the Batman, "then he'll be the federal government's problem, and one less problem for us to handle."

* * *

"Now, what's the matter?" Gordon then asked. "Because whenever it's you who asks to meet, it always means that you've found out about something nasty that I don't want to hear."

"When I cracked the Penguin's radio chatter, I found out something else other than his new arms shipment. It turns out that him and Black Mask are putting out a contract to kill me. It's pretty much free-for-all, from what I've gathered."

"Jesus H. Christ," muttered Gordon. "How much are they offering for you this time?"

"$90 million."

Gordon whistled. "That's...at least they want their money's worth."

"Indeed they do."

"That's going to attract a lot of attention," pointed out Gordon. "There's a laundry list of people who'd gladly kill you for $90 million, and there's probably just as big a laundry list of people who don't need the money to act as an incentive to kill you."

"I'm aware of that. I also have a couple ideas as to people who might be coming to try and cash in on it. Hopefully I'm wrong, and that they don't try."

"Would I be wrong if you suspect Deadshot, Deathstroke and the KGBeast as among those ideas?" asked Gordon. "You've faced off against all of them before, so it wouldn't be too 'out there' to consider they might want to come back for a rematch. For them, the money's a good bonus."

Batman didn't say anything. Gordon took that as being a 'yes'. After knowing the guy for nearly a decade, he found it easy to pick up the right tics and reactions and thus be able to 'read' him (even if he covered half his face with the cowl), which had led to him thinking more than once if he could actually hold a conversation with Batman without the other man needing to say anything.

"Do you think any of them might try and use myself or Barbara as bait to lure you in?" Gordon then asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Batman stayed silent for several moments, as if mulling over how best to respond. Gordon knew that he probably was not going to like the answer he got anyway, but he thought it was nice that Batman was trying to be considerate in some way.

"I wouldn't rule it out for now," Batman finally replied, "but you know that if anything happens to her, I will help you find her, Jim, even if it kills me. I did it before when the Mad Hatter took her, and I'll do it again."

* * *

"Thanks for that. It...it means a lot," replied Gordon before he asked Batman another question:

"Speaking of Jervis Tetch, how's the search for him going? It's been a whole year and the creepy bastard's still out there."

"It's mixed," replied Batman. "He's definitely not in Gotham, and he's definitely still alive. And I've been checking the databases for any missing persons reported as such or Jane Does found since his escape that may match his usual targets. I think I might have an idea as to where he is now."

"He was smart to have made his own escape when the Joker broke out last year, huh?" remarked Gordon dryly. He sent a quick glance in the direction of Robin, who was now juggling with his escrima sticks.

"I suppose he was," agreed Batman. "And he was smart to recognize we would be prioritising the Joker over him, and used that opportunity to get out of Gotham before we set our sights back on him."

"Definitely. So what have you found?"

Batman took a flash drive from his belt and handed it to Gordon. "It stores what I've found so far. 6 missing persons, all female and aged between 14 and 30 years, all with blonde hair-naturally blonde and dyed blonde-, all of whom went missing within the past 12 months, and all of whom disappeared within a 20 mile radius of Beacon, New York. If I may be presumptive, it would not be unlikely to check inside the abandoned Craig House Hospital and see if he's been operating out of there, though it's equally likely he's living under an alias."

Gordon looked at the flash drive in his hands. "So he's out of our jurisdiction, huh? Well, probably not yours, but certainly out of mine. I'll contact the New York State Police and the FBI to check up on Beacon for us."

He looked up to thank Batman for the flash drive, but Batman had disappeared. There was nothing on the rooftop suggesting anyone else besides Gordon had ever been there at all.

Glancing at the water tower where Robin had been sitting. He too had disappeared into thin air.

"God damn it," he muttered with a sigh. "He's even got the kid in on it."

Sticking the drive into his pocket, he turned and began to walk inside. "How is this mixed?" he wondered aloud to himself. "Honestly, this information's pretty damn good."

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **I have a good idea which Batman villains will be appearing in this, but I'd rather not say at this time.**


	13. The Cave, Part 1

_The Gotham Gazette, August 12 2010: Former Police Commissioner Loeb Hospitalized After Heart Attack_

 _By Jack Ryder—Former Gotham City Police Commissioner and convicted felon Gillian B. Loeb was hospitalized yesterday after suffering a severe heart attack during lunchtime._

 _Once described by Victor Sage as "the personification of everything an American policeman should never be or do", Loeb (71), who was sentenced to 30 years imprisonment in November 2006 after being convicted the previous month of up to 17 criminal charges (including obstruction of justice, conspiracy, blackmail and jury tampering), was sitting in the cafeteria during lunchtime at the Federal Corrections Institute at Fort Dix (where he was transferred to following his sentencing) when he collapsed and fell face-first onto the ground. Guards immediately began performing emergency procedures until help arrived and Loeb was quickly rushed to the prison medical wing, and from there to the Virtua Memorial Hospital at Mount Holly._

 _Between Loeb's appointment as Commissioner in 1992 and his removal from the position following his arrest in 2005, corruption in the GCPD—already a serious issue since the Prohibition era—reached new heights, with Loeb living a lavish lifestyle financed by bribes and kickbacks from various mobsters and businessmen in the city, most notably Mafia boss Carmine "The Roman" Falcone, while also protecting officers accused of corruption and brutality and "punishing" those officers who refused to toe the line.  
With the appearance of the vigilante known as Batman in 2005 and the rising profile of Lieutenant James Gordon (a strong opponent of police corruption), though, Loeb's days were numbered, particularly after a leak of information online in September 2005 exposing the corrupt activities of Loeb and nearly 40 other officers—an incident which would soon result in one of the worst corruption scandals in the history of US law enforcement and hundreds of arrests being carried out across New Jersey._

 _When interviewed, doctors at the hospital said Loeb was in a stable condition and likely to recover. Anonymous sources have also hinted that Loeb may also be transferred from Fort Dix to the Federal Medical Center in Devens, MA, if this proves to be part of an underlying health condition, though federal prosecutors have stated that they have no plans to give Loeb an early release on health grounds at this time._

* * *

 _July 10 2012_

The engine of the Batmobile—the Batman's personal car—growled hungrily as it sped down the highway and out of Gotham City. A key weapon in the vigilante's arsenal, it was a sleek, intimidating vehicle, roughly 21 feet long by 9 feet wide wide by a height of just under 5 feet, with wheels lined with kevlar and filled with nitrogen, and a long body designed for speed and armour, capable of speeds of up to 200 miles per hour.

In the beginning, Batman had only primarily used the Batcycle (a modified 2001 Yamaha SR400) for transport, as a motorcycle would be easier to hide and less conspicuous. However, over time he had realized that owning and using a car for his mission was not entirely disadvantageous and that it would be a wise investment in his war on crime. And so, in 2008, the Batmobile made its debut on the streets of Gotham City and had quickly proven itself to be a worthwhile investment, being faster and more durable than nearly every getaway car used by the criminal elements.

The Batmobile went straight ahead, off the main road and onto an old dust trail flanked by trees, and continued down this path for about 1,500 feet, until it reached a gushing waterfall that poured into a ravine. As if by magic, or as if it sensed the approaching vehicle, a drawbridge lowered down from the rock behind the waterfall and broke through it, and allowed the Batmobile to pass through and enter the tunnel inside before rising up once more.

What came next was about another 200 yards of tunnel carved out of the stone, but with steel ribs added at some point in the past 10-15 years, suggesting that the tunnel had been carved out—or at least, the process of carving out the tunnel—had begun some time earlier. This was indeed the case: work on the tunnel had begun sometime in the mid-1990s, with the workers brought in from outside of the state in windowless buses and paid through a shell company.

Eventually, the tunnel ended and the Batmobile came to a halt on a turntable. This was the Batcave—Batman's base of operations since the very beginning of his war on crime. A naturally occurring series of interconnected caverns underneath Wayne Manor with concrete and steel reinforcements added to the main cavern (located directly underneath the Manor) during the Cold War by Bruce Wayne's grandfather, it had lied dormant for several decades until Bruce Wayne rediscovered it by accident when he was 18, whereupon he quickly realized it would serve as an ideal base of operations for his crusade.

Once the elevator connecting the Manor to the cave had been repaired (accessible from behind a bookcase in the study, which moved into the wall whenever the button inside the Shakespeare bust was pressed), it wasn't too difficult to bring everything that was needed down to the cave. In the early 2000s, once the elevator had been repaired and the tunnel finally completed, a new construction crew had been brought in—this time from the Caribbean island nation of Santa Prisca, and paid in cash like the tunnel crew—to construct the turntable, refurbish the reinforcements and further prepare the caves for their eventual and current use as Batman's base of operations.

Among such details added over the years—both by the construction crew and by the Batman and his collaborators—were a laboratory to carry out forensic tests, a small medical bay to look after injuries and wounds sustained in combat, a series of display cases for various souvenirs and trophies collected during the Batman's crime-fighting career (as well as display cases for his older Batsuits), a small garage to store the Batcycle and a small concrete harbour for the Batboat to dock at.

* * *

Sitting at the Batcomputer—in reality a series of computer monitors all connected to their own individual keyboard—was a man in his 60s with neat grey-blonde hair and horn-rimmed glasses over his blue eyes. With his grey trousers, brown brogues, a white shirt and grey tie and a woollen V-neck sweater with epaulettes, he looked less like an accomplice of Gotham City's mysterious vigilante and more like someone's polite grandfather. When the Batmobile arrived inside the cave and halted on the turntable, he swivelled himself around in the chair and stood up to greet them.

"Master Wayne," he said cordially to Batman, then turning to the younger vigilante. "Master Grayson."

"Hey, Alfred," said 'Master Grayson' with a smile, taking off his domino mask and waving a gloved hand through his wavy hair.

"I trust the evening's patrols went well?" asked Alfred as Batman took off his cowl (exposing a handsome face with brown hair and blue eyes that gave off a deceptively boyish charm) and placed it and the utility belt onto the desk next to the Batcomputer's keyboard as he sat down in the chair.

"It was quiet," replied 'Master Wayne', sitting down in the chair. "The two Avengers were in Burnside. They saw Robin, thought it was me, gave chase, and chased him for nearly a mile before you stopped those thugs doing anything to that couple."

"At which point Bruce—I mean, Batman, obviously—snuck up behind Captain America and the Black Widow, told them to get out of the city in his trademark gravel voice, and then grappel-gunned away, leaving them shocked, speechless and tired," continued 'Master Grayson', taking off his gloves, gauntlets and cape.

Bruce sighed, but that did not stop his mouth from curling upward at the edge briefly. "Thank you, Dick."

"You're welcome. Hey, by the way, about—"

"She can come over," agreed Bruce as he began removing the gloves and gauntlets from his suit. "Would Saturday be good? I've a meeting to go to over at Wayne Enterprises that day, so the two of you will have the place to yourselves."

"Yeah, I think that could work," replied Dick.

"Okay, then. Just.. don't break anything, and for the love of God don't bring her down here."

"Will do!" agreed Dick as he went to change out of his costume and put it back in its case.

* * *

"Did you inform Commissioner Gordon about the contract, sir?" Alfred asked, walking up to just behind the computer.

"Yes. He'll be keeping an eye out for any known assassins who may be interested," replied Bruce. "Also, I managed to pass on a possible hiding area for Jervis Tetch, and he told me that Jonny Frost is running the Joker's old gang."

"The name certainly sounds familiar," mused Alfred. "He was one of the Joker's early hires, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He's been keeping under the radar for some time since what happened to his boss."

"Most sane criminals would do that if their employer was caught in a plane crash into the North Atlantic," remarked Alfred dryly.

"Most sane criminals wouldn't work for the Joker, Alfred," retorted Bruce. "Though even with his mercuriality, I imagine the thought of getting to keep much bigger cuts from a job than other crime bosses would motivate people into working with him long enough."

"Greed motivatives people to do strange things, sir," agreed Alfred.

Bruce gave a slight nod agreeing with Alfred's statement as he began typing on one of the keyboards, leading to an image of a file coming up on its monitor. The file displayed was that of Natasha Romanoff. He typed on another keyboard, and on its monitor appeared Steve Rogers. Both screens listed the basic facts about the two Avengers—their dates of birth (November 22 1984 and July 4 1918, respectively), their physical attributes, skills and training they had received, and so forth.

"I can't see them giving up, sir," said Alfred, looking at each screen. "As the saying goes, 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.'"

"You might be right, Alfred," agreed Bruce. "My confronting them essentially means they succeeded in making contact with me, and they were able to learn something about the Batman thanks to Knox and myself, even if it doesn't exactly tell them how to make contact. Perhaps if I had just ignored them after getting Romanoff out of The Stacked Deck, they would've eventually decided the mission was a failure and leave, considering that these two are arguably his best hopes at trying to find the Batman for his collection."

"I'm not sure you can criticize other for having collections, sir," remarked Alfred, gesturing to the display cases.

* * *

Bruce smirked. "Yeah, you're probably right. The question now: what to do? If they're going to try again—which we both agree they will be doing—then I'll have to come up with something to keep them occupied. But what exactly?"

"Are you certain that obsessing over them is important, sir?" asked Alfred. "After all, there are likely to be many more interested parties coming to Gotham soon over that $90 million contract, which seems to be a far more pressing matter, wouldn't you agree?"

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred had a point; they both did. But they both knew he was not going to agree straight away, and that Alfred would have to resort to wearing down his friend and employer.

He rubbed his eyes, an action that did not go unnoticed by Alfred.

"You look tired," said Alfred with concern. "Maybe just for tonight, you can leave the digging and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired, Alfred," lied Bruce, despite knowing he would probably lost this fight eventually—despite the fact that things had been much quieter recently, his focus on finding Jervis Tetch and further hampering the Penguin's operations meant he had only been getting an average of 6 hours of sleep per night for the past month, and he knew that Alfred was not going to let this continue. "And this can't wait."

"Yes it can, and you certainly can," countered Alfred. "You know enough about Romanoff and Rogers that you don't need to do any more further research. There's no major shipments coming in for the rest of the week for any of the syndicates, and Gordon can handle them himself. And goodness knows that Romanoff and Rogers aren't researching you right you. If anything, they're sleeping—though who knows which definition of 'sleeping' we're talking about here."

Behind them, standing next to the elevator, Dick began howling with laughter. Bruce gave Alfred an odd look.

"In addition, Bruce Wayne has some rather important appointments tomorrow," added Alfred. "And while being late may be perfectly in-character for Bruce Wayne, it would still be damaging, I don't think it would work well if you overslept when you're due to meet over another sizeable donation to the New York relief efforts."

That did the trick. Bruce typed in the right words, shutting down the Batcomputer for the night, and got up from the seat. "You know just what to say, you know that?" he told Alfred, with the corner of his mouth upturned faintly.

"Yes, I do," agreed Alfred as the two men began to walk to the elevator. "And to make it even better, I think I'll make that strawberry mille feuille for breakfast tomorrow."

"Now you're spoiling me," 'complained' Bruce.

"Don't do that faux-complaining, sir, we both know you're looking forward to it."

Alfred was right.

* * *

 **AN: I own none of the characters.**

 **The Batmobile is based on the design from _Batman: Arkham Asylum_.**

 **I know this might not serve much narratively, but I felt it would be a good idea to show the Batcave.**


End file.
